


Faith and Desire

by Daiako (Achrya)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Death, Ghosts, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Modern Middle Earth, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pining, Sibling Incest, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Still dwarrows and elves, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-11-29 10:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11438802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Kili has always been different. Wild. Strange. Beautiful. More untamed forest spirit, jumping at pools of light, vanishing into shadows, and whispering to the wind, than proper dwarf. Fili has never cared, he loves his brother far too much for such things to matter to him. In his eyes Kili is everything, the entire world. And that, really, is the crux of the problem.Well that and maybe the ghosts.For FiKiWeek2017





	1. I'd make you believe

**Author's Note:**

> Modern Ghost Hunter AU, where elves, hobbits, and dwarves are no big deal (why not have them just be humans you ask? Because I does what I wants, and what I wants is dwarrows) but seeing ghosts and demons or believing in magic earns you a lifetime of intensive therapy and medication for various mental illnesses. 
> 
> ...I have, admittedly, gone a very strange place with Fiki Week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I might be playing a little fast and loose with the 'Inspired by Nature' and yet it's that prompt that inspired the entire story. Go figure.
> 
> "I miss the sound of your voice  
> And I miss the rush of your skin  
> And I miss the still of the silence  
> As you breathe out and I breathe in  
> If I could walk on water  
> If I could tell you what's next  
> I'd make you believe  
> I'd make you forget  
> So come on, get higher, loosen my lips  
> Faith and desire and the swing of your hips  
> Just pull me down hard  
> And drown me in love"
> 
> ~Matt Nathanson, Come On Get Higher

There were exactly five things Fili grew up knowing to be absolutely true. These were things not to be challenged or questioned, things he never doubted or even thought to doubt. 

Until he grew old enough to know better. 

The first was that his uncle Thorin was the strongest dwarf in the world. He was physically imposing of course, and when Fili was but a lad he imagined his uncle to be as big as giants were supposed to be. He was a master of his craft, commanded the respect of those all around them, worked his hands to the bone without ever complaining, and yet he always had time for his nephews. He was like the dwarf kings of old, the warrior kings who fought and bled and worked under the mountains, giving their all for their people. Nothing could make him falter and there was no weakness in him. 

The second was that Erebor was a grand place, a dwarf community that had straddled the line between isolation and openness with the world and done it well. The mines, and the land around them, had been in his family for generations, and many dwarrows had worked and lived on the upper levels as well as on the mountain, one of the few partially underground cities left, and worked below. They had been scholars and crafters, a great library and a grand forge worthy of awe, markets and more under the mountain. 

And then it had been lost, stripped from not just his family but all dwarrows, and even now was part of an ongoing legal struggle. All the details were lost to him, though he knew of the great tragedy, of Smaug and how he'd taken advantage of Thror’s madness, how mine shafts had collapsed and killed many, how faith in their family had waned, but he didn't quite understand how it all came together. But he didn't need to, not really. He knew Thorin fought for Erebor and would never stop and so Fili figured that was the right thing to do. That was where they belonged.

Fili had only seen it in pictures in old photo albums or attached to articles about the tragedy of the mountain or the rapidly shrinking town of Men nearby. Once Dale had flourished because of its proximity to Erebor but with the mines closed down and the income of the dwarrows dried up Dale was sure to follow eventually. Just as the Dwarrows had headed for the Blue Mountains after Erebor was lost the Men left the floundering town, trickling further down river until it was little more than a ghost town, inhabited by those too poor to move but often too poor to stay and live well. 

Erebor closing its gates had affected many. 

The third thing he knew was that his mother was made of stone. Dis, daughter of Thrain, was more mountain than most could ever dream of being, steady and constant, unmoving except when she decided to be. Nothing seemed to shake her, not tragedy or loss or pain. She kept her head high, walked among dwarf and man as she were meant to rule them, and no matter how hard the world could be she never faltered. She shed no tears, seemed to feel no doubt, and kept her eyes ever on the future. 

But unlike a mountain nothing would wear Dis down, or so Fili believed. There would never be cracks in his mother, no chunks torn loose by the elements. She was untouchable, larger and more amazing  than his brain could comprehend as a child, much like Thorin was to him, and he loved and feared her for it, spun her into a figure befitting a fairy tale. His mother, the beautiful mountain, unshakeable. 

The fourth think Fili knew was that his younger brother was ‘odd’. For all that Fili knew him better than most, could look past the quirks and strangeness, he could not deny what was true. If anything he knew Kili’s oddities better than most. Intimately, even, having shared a bedroom with him for some seventy five years. 

His mother said that Kili had been brought into into the world blue in the lips and perfectly silent. It had taken work, and two good smacks to the bottom, before he'd draw a shuddering breath and cry; it was a sharp contrast to Fili whose begun his life screaming as if the world had personally offended him, or so Thorin said, and kept doing so for the next five years. Kili would never cry much but would often be found in his crib, wide awake and staring off into the shadows, babbling happily. 

That would very much set the tone for Kili’s life. He was a queer child by all standards save Fili’s, often running into the nearby woods to flit among sunbeams, whisper softly to the wind, sing to the creeks and rivers, and laugh at the trees when their leaves rustled and branches collided. Some said he was like an elf, or the wild forest fey old dwarrows cautioned them to be wary of, the sort who seduced and bewitched, twisted and warped hearts, and would lead even the bravest and most stalwart to ruin with pretty faces and prettier words.

And that was without them seeing him as Fili did, without witnessing the way Kili could slip in and out of the shadows and pools of moonlight, the way he seemed to lose himself when he listened to the wind, head cocked and expression pensive, or the way his too sharp eyes caught things that Fili spent a great many years unsure were there. No one but Fili saw the way he sat in the trees or along the riverbank, chatting contently to the sunlight and shadows. 

Fili had never dared speak of these times. He knew somehow, instinctively, that nothing good would come of it and that protecting Kili meant staying silent. 

It would have been nice if Kili had been of the same mind but then if he’d been the sort to stay quiet than he would not have been the strange wild thing Fili knew him to be. 

Their mother and Thorin were at first amused by the tales Kili would tell of men with horse bodies, women with fishtails who lazed about on the sand, of dwarrows and men who put on the skin of animals then shed them again. They thought him creative and intelligent, which was very true, and saw no harm in him having imaginary friends. But with age they expected such things to wane, as was normal, not for Kili to grow more insistent that what he saw were not flights of fancy but the truth. They told him he had to place childish whims away, had to grow up, and Kili could not. A rift formed.

Therapy and doctor visits followed and the rift grew. Pills of all sorts, normally rejected by their people in favor of more natural remedies, came on the heels of one diagnosis after another. Whispers of Kili being unwell, inheriting the madness of the Durin line, floated in the air though Fili could never pin down from where they begin. Fili came home early one day and found his mother weeping over the sink; he crept out quietly, world forever changed. He saw Thorin's shoulders slump when the whispers reached his ears, saw a sadness so deep it made his own heart ache in his uncle's eyes. 

Kili stood firmer than ever in the face of all the upheaval. He had never known when to back down, not as a child in the sparring yard, taller yet much lighter and thinner than their peers, not against the snickering of bullies who said he wasn’t dwarf enough, and certainly not with their mother and uncle. Fili begged Kili to just...stop speaking of it. Did he really need to tell the whole world what he saw? Could he not live quietly, without drawing attention? Did he truly need the validation of everyone else. 

“Can you truly not see them?” Kili asked him one night, staring at the window at something. When Fili didn’t answer he’d turned to look at him, eyes twin black holes in his face, fathomless in their darkness, threatening to swallow both of them whole. 

Fili shivered. He did not fear his brother but there were times when he worried about what else might lurk under Kili’s skin. 

Kili returned his gaze to the window. Bathed in silvery moonlight, untamed hair falling into his face, peering at something Fili could not see he did indeed look like he didn’t belong among them. “Maybe I am going mad.” 

The fifth and final thing Fili knew was that he loved his brother. Since the first time the small babe had been placed into his arms and smiled a gummy smile Kili had been the center of his world. He was his first and best friend, his greatest competition in all things, the one person who could get under his skin without fail and the only one who could sooth his upset when he was good in mad. Kili was his secret keeper, training and study partner, the person who understood him best, without words or gestures or any more than a glance.

Kili was his everything. There was no word that was good enough to capture it all except, perhaps, brother. 

As sure as Fili was that he loved his brother he was equally as sure that it was that love that was his undoing. In his sixty-second year he realized the love was not as it should be, had become something more, and he had nearly been crushed by that weight. In his seventy-fifth year Kili would ask him if he could truly not see what he saw and, out of love and grief, Fili would wish for nothing more than the ability to see. To give his brother comfort in knowing he wasn’t losing his mind as Thrain had done and to tell him, with a smile, that it was everyone else who was mistaken.

That was where everything went wrong. 

That was the night the screams started.

That was the night he saw Uncle Frerin, as young and hardy as the day he'd died some twenty years before Fili had been born. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Inspired by Art: When Kili calls Fili answers, and more the fool is he for doing so. His brother claims he wants moral support as he gets a tattoo but nothing is ever that easy. Not when proximity brings things that won’t stay dead to light and Kili needs a favor. Fili should refuse, but he doesn’t know how.


	2. Say Something, I'm Giving Up On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2, Inspired by Art: When Kili calls Fili answers, and more the fool is he for doing so. His brother claims he wants moral support as he gets a tattoo but nothing is ever that easy. Not when Kili needs a favor. Fili should refuse, but he doesn’t know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an ideal world these chapters would be longer and more detailed, with time to flesh out the mysteries and the past but, alas, deadlines. ;) I wish I could make this a bit cleaner for you all but, upside, this week/seven chapters is basically an intro to the world and I have a ton of ideas and things to explore. Including the past and Gimli’s one man war against all the weird things that want to eat Fili.
> 
> "Say something, I'm giving up on you  
> I'll be the one, if you want me to  
> Anywhere, I would've followed you  
> Say something, I'm giving up on you  
> And I am feeling so small  
> It was over my head  
> I know nothing at all  
> And I will stumble and fall  
> I'm still learning to love  
> Just starting to crawl  
> Say something, I'm giving up on you  
> I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you  
> Anywhere, I would've followed you  
> Say something, I'm giving up on you  
> And I will swallow my pride  
> You're the one that I love"
> 
> ~A Great Big World, Say Something

 

 

Fili had learned to, out of necessity, be a heavy sleeper. Once upon a time he’d been the sort to wake up at any noise, which had been a bit of a problem growing up because Kili was a wild sleeper at the best of times, but that had been before the spirits. The problem with ghosts, beyond the obvious ‘shouldn’t be real’ and the fact when he’d wished to see as Kili saw spirits weren’t what he meant, was that they were loud.

He hated to be more dramatic than the situation called for but most ghosts were not peaceful or happy with their situation. Most of them weren’t ‘there’ as it were, little more than echoes etched into the fabric of the world with pain and suffering, reliving their last minutes. They flickered in and out like static, wandering horrified through the same motions time and time again before reversing and returning to the beginning. It was never good ends, because good ends didn’t leave echoes, and it never got easier to witness.

But those ones weren’t the worst. The worst were the ones who were aware. The ones who wandered the world, tethered to a person or place, left with only their thoughts, their pain, and the realization that the world was moving on without them. Most of them were faded things, wraiths, worn thin by time and shredded by their own hands. They howled and screamed, threw themselves at the people around them, begged to be seen and heard, to be avenged or, when they had existed in that state long enough, just to be remembered.

And when they weren’t they turned their anger upon themselves, tearing their wispy bodies apart. They destroyed themselves eventually, ripped their bodies to ribbons until there wasn’t enough to keep them together and they faded away. Usually sobbing as it happened, madness pulling back just in time to realize that they had doomed themselves to something even worse than the existence they’d had: nothingness.

And then there was Frerin. He was the one who’d told Fili to never let the other spirits know he could see them, to not open himself up to them because nothing good could come from letting death in, taught him to not flinch at the echoes and to resist the urge to cry out when he saw the fresher ones, still full of color and awareness, wander into traffic or out of windows or weep openly in the streets. Pretend they aren’t there Fili, Frerin had told him with a chilling seriousness, harden your heart or else you’ll be joining them.

And when Fili hadn’t take that advice to heart Frerin had saved him from madness and death, though not before some damage had been done.

His uncle was remarkably sane for how long he’d been wandering the earth, trailing after their family. Maybe it was because he was a dwarf, as Fili hadn’t actually seen many full blown dwarf spirits. Maybe it was because he was so well remembered. Maybe it was because Thorin and Dis ‘spoke’ to him often, unaware that he was listening but unwilling to break the habit. Maybe it was because of Kili and his...oddities. Maybe it was because of Fili. Maybe it was just pure Durin stubbornness at work.

Fili found the why was less important that the fact that Frerin was there.

And that he was stunningly, unrepentantly, breathtakingly annoying.

“FILI!”

He woke up all at once, yelping and all but throwing himself from the bed and to the floor in a tangle of sheets and flailing limbs. He swore when he hit the unforgiving floor with a thud, swore louder when his elbow collided with his bedside dresser, and growled low in his throat when his comforter came down onto his head, blocking out the darkness of his small apartment. Frerin’s laughter, low and throaty, had him snarling as he ripped the blanket off of his head.

His uncle was crouched on the other side of his bed, wearing what Fili had come to think of as his ‘torturing Fili’ grin; it was frighteningly similar to Kili’s cheekier grins. Frerin looked quite a bit like Fili (Or, as Frerin pointed out often, Fili looked like him) broadly built, about the same height, similar in age, golden blond hair and blue eyes, a beard split into two and braided with his moustache.

His personality, however, was some unholy mixture of Kili and Gimli. Impish, mocking, playful, bitingly sarcastic, and all too eager to remind Fili of his faults.

And that was at the best of times. At the worst of times he could perfectly understand what his mother had meant when she said Frerin was the scarier of her brothers.

Once upon a time Frerin had been a bit translucent with an odd echoing voice and prone to glowing like a smug nightlight but the years had turned him solid, given him color back, snuffed out much of his light, and taken the ghostliness from his voice.

Which made him very good at waking Fili up when he was so inclined.

Fili opened his mouth to ask what exactly Frerin thought he was doing but the shrill ring of his phone cut him off. Frerin’s smile turned, if possible, even more smug. Fili didn’t bother holding back the irritation in his glare as he fished his phone out from under his pillow.

“ _What_?”

“Kili is coming to see you.” A pained voice, tinny and wavering, rasped into his ear.

Fili rubbed at his eyes, slower than he wanted to admit to process the familiar voice. “Gimli? What-”

“He’s going to ask you to do something. You need to tell him no.” Gimli continued on as if Fili hadn’t spoken, which was par for the course with these sort of calls. And their relationship in general. Gimli had grown from hero worship and following at his and Kili’s heels as a dwarfling and teen to being chronically unimpressed with them.

Or, at least, unimpressed with Fili which was fair. Fili hadn’t done much he would consider impressive in quite some time, and Gimli knew that better than most.

“I know telling Kili no is nearly physically impossible and that letting him twist you into knots is your favorite past time,” Gimli said blithely. “But you can consider it a personal favor to me if you could manage to not fuck yourself over.”

“What does he want?”

Gimli huffed; Fili was certain he was rolling his eyes and scowling behind his beard. “How should I know that? Last I checked I wasn’t Kili, and believe I’m grateful for it what with your tastes running more to brothers than cousins-”

In another, kinder, universe Gimli would have thought Fili an irredeemable pervert and abandoned him, not seen fit to mock him. In this world Fili was not so lucky.

“It doesn’t matter. Just tell him no.”

Anything Fili might had said was lost to a click and tell-tale silence. Fili frowned at his phone then tossed it back onto the bed with a sigh. He crawled after it, flopping down onto the rumpled sheet, and tossed an arm over his eyes. It was much too late for one of Gimli’s strange calls, especially one relating to Kili. And visits.

Fili had left the Blue Mountains nearly thirteen years before, under the pretense of wanting to seek further education at the small university outside of Bree but in reality to escape what he had foolishly allowed to take root there. No one had been pleased with the sudden decision or that he seemed to think his education gained among their people needed to supplemented with that of men, Kili least of all. Even Frerin, who knew the truth of the matter, had scorned him as a coward for months. Even worse Fili had decided to stay in the small college and waypoint town, found a job and one of the few dwarf equipped apartments and...stayed.

Frerin had been nearly intolerable for a very long time. He knew that Fili was running away, hiding out, and didn’t approve of it.

Bree wasn’t anything amazing; populated almost completely by people with no intention of staying. The University was notable only because it was the only one hobbits bothered with and was dwarf friendly aside, and the town itself was in the perfect spot for those driving through to stay for a night or two. There was little there of interest for a dwarf looking for more than setting up in the markets but still Fili remained.

It wasn’t Ered Luin and for him that was enough.

He’d nearly ended in the Iron Hills instead of Bree, one couldn't get much further away, but he’d found rather quickly that he found the spirits of dwarrow more unsettling than those of men. And, perhaps, he hadn’t wanted to be quite that far away.

Kili didn’t visit often and Fili went home even less. There had been a stretch of years, when Kili had been at his most hurt and Fili had found that drinking dulled the screams, where they hadn’t talked at all. It was something Fili would have once thought impossible, would have never fathomed going more than a day or two without Kili at his side let alone willingly not speaking to him, but it had become reality. He had felt the lack of his brother as keenly as one would a missing limb, had found himself often turning to speak to Kili only to find him gone and have his heartache return anew. More times than he could count he’d reached for his phone then forced himself to set it down and the feeling of something missing, of being unbalanced and always always stumbling, would claw at him.

Drink had helped with that as well and even kept him from hearing the disappointment of his uncle, by then an ever present figure at his side.

It had all worked rather well from his point of view right up until Gimli had appeared at his door and punched him directly in the nose. And then proceeded to wrestle him to the ground and sit on him. Being bested by his baby cousin had been shameful to say the least of the matter, though not as much as having a phone, and a long series of drunken text messages alternating between rambling about Kili being his moon, stars, and other disgusting drivel, and phornographic ramblings so graphic he’d wanted to die on the spot, shoved into his face.

_“I had no idea you were such a poet.” Gimli drawled over Fili’s horrified sputtering. “You should have mastered in that, not smithing. Rhyming moon and soon? Inspired. And the way you go on for...three, no four messages, about how you’d like to get your mouth on Kili’s-”_

_Fili moaned and let his head fall back to his the floor. “Just kill me and spare me this.”_

_Gimli snorted. “I think not. We have forty messages yet to discuss.”_

He’d stopped drinking less as a matter of feeling he needed to, as he still wasn’t entirely sure a dwarf could drink too much too often as men did in spite of what Gimli and most of the people Fili knew in Bree thought, and more as a matter of wounded pride. Not that it had been so easy but wounded dwarrow pride was no small thing either. It could move mountains when so inclined.

Also blackmail. Blackmail had played a very large part.

“How does he do that?” Frerin asked. He moved arm to watch his uncle stride across the floor to flop onto Fili’s well worn couch. He kicked his feet up to dangle them over the end and turned his gaze to the ceiling. “Call and show up knowing things he ought not to know at just the right time?”

“Maybe Kili told him.”

Frerin’s look was almost laughably blank. “I suppose Kili also told him when you were so deep in your cups and mind you only left your bed for more ale. And that you had decided a siren, of all things, was your new best friend and that you needed help convincing her to not eat you. And the witch, who wanted your eyes. And the kitsune. And-”

Fili rolled onto his front and pulled a pillow over his head to block out his uncle's ranting. He did have an unfortunate tendency of making friends with creatures who wanted him to part with parts of his body or soul or both. Or take him to bed and became far less friendly when they realized he was unwilling. Worse, he could never see them for what they were but they seemed able to see him for what he was just fine. And yes, he had been aided (he was loathe to call it rescued) by Gimli and his axes appearing at just the right time more than once.

Why Gimli kept a battle axe in his truck Fili didn’t know. And then there were all the other odd things his cousin had on hand and his knowledge of the creatures that were so fond of Fili. And, for that matter, what happened to the bodies of those who didn't back down, thinking Gimli's threats were bluffs.

It was an old, worn topic and Fili was far from in the mood for it. He knew not how Gimli knew the things he knew but, in all fairness to the situation, Fili spoke to the dead and Kili...well, he still didn’t know what his brother was. There were some oddities in them, clearly, and whatever that strangeness was had found its way to their cousin as well. Fili didn’t need to know any more than that and if Gimli had wanted him to know more he would have shared it. His cousin certainly didn’t lack in ability to express himself when he was so inclined.

Just like Fili didn’t see fit to share what he saw.

They couldn’t all be Kili, rejoicing gladly in that which set them apart and threatened to ruin them, even if there were times Fili wished that he were. He hadn't known it before but Kili was stronger than he was, willing to do and see and feel things that others dared not. Fili...wasn't. He didn't think he ever would be. He'd long since decided he'd never tell Kili he could see the dead, told himself that he didn't want his brother to know it had been a wish to help, to comfort, that had brought what seemed to be an endless punishment to his life. That was a burden only Fili needed to carry and so he would, for however long he needed to. Until he returned to the stone maybe. 

He was prepared to deal with that when it came. 

But now all that mattered is that what Gimli knew he knew. If he said Kili would be there then Kili would be there.

\----

It took two days but one morning Fili found himself outside of a tattoo shop, waiting for his brother. They’d spoken briefly in the morning, just long enough for Kili to ask him to come along for ‘moral support’. Fili’s question of ‘you came all this way to have a man tattoo you? Have all the inkers in Ered Luin vanished?’ had gone unanswered which was, in it’s own way, very much an answer.

Gimli’s phone call weighed in the back of his mind but surely this wasn’t what he’d been on about so Fili didn’t feel too badly in showing up even though he knew there was more to the request then there seemed to be. And was it not tradition to be present for a siblings first tattoo? Had Kili not done the same for him two decades ago? He couldn’t in good conscious do such a thing.

Is what he told himself and Frerin as they walked to the shop. His uncle looked unconvinced but decided to keep his peace for a change of pace. Likely he was all lectured out for the time being and too frustrated by Fili’s continued to refusal to tell Kili the truth (which truth Frerin was on about this time hadn’t been clarified. The truth of what Fili could see? The truth about why he had left the Blue Mountains? That Gimli had told him to stay away?) to bother with reminding him that lying to himself was not behavior befitting a dwarf.

He was resolutely not thinking about any of that when Kili came into sight, smiling and calling his name. No, Fili’s thoughts focused themselves down to ‘Oh’ and ‘I have made a mistake’.

“What has your brother done to himself?” Frerin asked, voice a shocked hush.

There were certain long forged habits, traditions, that most dwarrows adhered to without question. They grew their hair long, rarely cutting it except in shame; even Dwalin remained clinging to what remained of his hair in spite of being perfectly bald on top. They used beads, clasps, clips, jewels and tattoos to tell the stories of their lives, though the stories were less impressive without kings and battles to fight. They covered themselves in layers, befitting those who lived deep in the earth and worked with molten metal or pulling things from stone, like those who had one used their clothing to hide features and gender from the other races. Though some of the influence of men had crept in, and maybe a touch from the elves though none that any would admit to, these were things that rarely changed. Some stepped outside of such things, dressed more like men, but no dwarrows Fili knew personally.

It made sense then, that if any would go against that it would be Kili who had been dogged all his life by those who said he was not dwarf enough. His arms were bare, shirt sleeveless and nothing over it, and his hair was not just cut, but shaved down on the sides. The top was as long as last Fili had seen up, drawn back and held in place with a plain wooden clasp. His beard was still more patchy stubble than anything else.

“And you’re all but drooling!” Frerin hissed. Fili’s gaze flickered over to him to find his uncle looking decidedly distressed.

Fili was willing to concede that he should be more...something. Bothered. Concerned. Shocked. Anything at all other than the fluttering warmth that came to life low in his stomach. But drooling? Certainly not. He was nearly ninety and far past the point of being struck dumb at the sight of Kili.

Wasn’t he?

“We’re descended from kings you know. Durin himself started this line, honor and respect have followed us for generations, and now you two! You, looking as if you’ve been smacked stupid with a hammer and your brother...I. I’m not sure what he is. Strange lad just gets stranger and stranger. Every time I think he's reached the peak he just comes back around even more odd than when I last saw him. If I could roll over in my grave I would.”

“Fee!” Kili pulled him into a tight hug that nearly took Fili off his feet as soon as he was close enough. Fili’s heart decided it would be a wonderful time to begin beating thunderously hard against his ribcage. Kili was, as he’d always been, distractingly warm and clung worse than strangling vines did. “You came!”

Fili was not past the point of losing his ability to form words over his brother. He suspected, as he let himself sink into the embrace against his much better judgement, he’d never be past it and more the fool he was for it.

Frerin snorted darkly. “He might if you keep touching him like that.”

Fili cleared his throat then hastily extracted himself his brother’s grip. He put space between them, not so much that with anyone else it would seem strange and yet between the two of them it might have been the distance between Bree and home. Kili’s smile dimmed slightly. “Of course I did. I’m always available if you need someone to hold your hand for something little brother.”

“I don’t need a hand holder, Fee.” Kili slid past him to push open the shop door. Cool air rushed out to greet them, battling the heavy summer air, and a bell tinkled cheerfully over head. “And haven’t for years.”

Fili nodded slowly, eyes sliding around the barebones front room. Chairs, binders stacked on a table, a counter with an array of earrings and piercings under the glass and, in the far corner, an echo playing out. It was a woman cradling a child, pushed into the corner as best she could. The building around her was different, seemed to be made of wood with a dirt and straw floor, and fire was licking at the edges of the echo.

Fili looked away. “Then we’ll say I couldn’t very well not come and see what brought you all the way here for a tattoo.”

Kili held up a hand in greeting to the woman behind the counter and got a nod in return. She stood up and vanished behind the heavy curtain hiding away everything but the front lobby of the shop without a word. Once she was gone Kili turned to him, a different smile in place. It was cautious but hopeful, akin to the mock innocent expression his brother used to wear before asking Dis or Thorin for something he knew he couldn’t have.

Fili wasn’t sure it had ever been turned onto him before.

“Do you want to see it? The design?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer before a phone was being pushed into his hand, a zoomed in picture of dark broken lines on it. For a moment he could only see the lines as that, nothing more, but then they arranged themselves into letters. Some of the words he knew, Khazdul and Westron swirling together, but others he didn't by sight. It was hard to piece together, as he was unable to understand parts, but he saw something about protection from...darkness?, ancestors, a request?

“It’s Sindarin, the other parts.” Kili supplied, picking up on his confusion. Fili’s head snapped up and his mouth may have dropped open. Frerin, who'd glided through the door to follow them, let loose some choice words. Kili smiled wryly (if he could hear their uncle Fili doubted he'd be able to do anything but cringe. Small favors.) “The Sindarin is why I'm here and not seeing a dwarf inker.”

“No self respecting dwarf would put *that* on his skin.” Frerin spat, face twisted into scowl that made him look so much like Thorin it was jarring.

“Amad is going to skin you. And then Uncle is going to burn your skin to make a point.” Fili said as he zoomed out from the image, curious at the way the words were written to curve and loop. With a more clear image he could see it wasn't just lines of text but that the words made up the outline of a bird, wings outstretched. “Or maybe he’ll mount it as a symbol of overwhelming stupidity for everyone to see.”

“Uncle knows.” Kili held up a hand to halt Fili from calling that out for the bullshit it had to be. There was no way Thorin knew Kili was getting elvish permanently inked onto his skin and didn’t have his brother locked up in his room for the foreseeable future. “Its protection spells, the strongest I could find, worked together to form one big one.”

“Spells.” Fili echoed and that. That was a headache starting to form. Magic was...he knew it was foolish to draw a line past ghosts and various storybook creatures but before magic but didn’t there have to be limits somewhere? “Kili-”

“You don’t believe in it, you’ve told me before. Listen,” Kili stepped back into his space and placed his hand on his shoulders; Fili could feel him vibrating with some powerful emotion. “We’re going to Erebor, Fee. Soon. Once I'm done here. I’m going to show everyone that the things I see are real and getting Erebor back is how I’m going to do it.”

Ice crept through Fili’s veins and froze his heart in his chest. A dull roar started in his ears. “What? Y-you can’t. Erebor is closed to us.”

Kili waved a hand dismissively. “Uncle has a friend who says there’s a back way in.”

“You’re going to break in to the mountain.” Fili said faintly, eyes darting away to look anywhere except at his brother. They were drawn, instead, to the echo flicking in the corner, silently speeding to it’s conclusion. The woman was curled around the child, coughing violently as smoke stole the air from the room. Tears were rolling down her face.

He wondered what had been here before and when it had burned.

Frerin slipped between him and the echo, face stricken. “Fili. Don’t watch that Fili, you know better.”

“It’s not really breaking in if it’s meant to be ours is it?” Kili asked, frowning thoughtfully. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

Excited? Once he would have been, when all he knew were the stories he was told. Erebor, not just a mine and the city built around it, but a rare jewel. A hub of trade, craft, innovation, and science among the dwarrow, and their family had stood at the head of it, owned the mind and lead the city. He’d dreamed of that place, with it’s forges that never went cold, glittering halls, and deep tunnels.

But he was older now, had looked more into things on his own, and he knew what Erebor had really been towards the end. He knew about the cave ins, the mine collapses, the madness of Thror as he’d disregarded safety and the need of the people to delves deeper and deeper. The staggering death toll that had come before Smaug, a man who’d used Thror’s diminished state to slowly buy up the mountain from beneath the dwarrows, had chased those who remained out.

He knew that Thorin insisted, as had Thrain before him, that Thror would have never sold the mountain and that if they could just get back inside to find Thror’s will they could prove it.

They could get Erebor back.   

Fili shook his head. It was insanity. It was obsession, no different from what had lead Thror to nearly destroy his people and what had eventually lead Thrain to leave his family in the dark of night nearly a century ago. It was what had turned their uncle into the quiet, hard man he was now.

Kili squeezed his shoulders. “Come with us.”

Fili dragged in a breath that rattled in his chest like something had come loose. “What?”

“I think...no, I’m sure, there are spirits in Erebor. Maybe even Thror himself.” Fili knew all the blood had left his face, that he had gone pale; Kili’s eyes gleamed like jewels. Fili felt sick. “If we can get them to help us find the will, get it on camera, that will prove that there’s more than other people can see in the world. And it won’t be a little thing, it will be huge! Everyone in Middle Earth will pay attention to us reclaiming Erebor.”

“...you can’t see spirits.” Fili croaked, eyes darting back to Frerin who was staring at Kili like he’d grown a second head. He couldn’t, could he? He’d never said he could, never mentioned ghosts or wraiths or the echoes. Never said a word about being able to see Frerin or, more to the point, see Frerin talking to Fili. If he could see then he had to know Fili could see too but he’d never

Kili frowned. “Well, no, I can’t. Not exactly. I hear, sometimes, I think but it’s… We’ve got people who can, though. Gandalf, Thorin’s ‘friend’, knows someone, a hobbit, and I’ve been in contact with people. This would just be the start, to get things moving, to open others up to to the idea.”

“Tell him no.” Frerin whispered urgently, stepping closer. “You have to tell him no. You can’t go to Erebor, that miserable fucking mountain will eat you alive and keep your bones.”

“I need you for this Fee. No one else believed in me when we were young, no one, and I know you don’t believe me anymore but I need to show you that you were right.” Kili’s forehead touched his own. “Believe me again.”

“It’s a tomb Fili, a tomb full of angry dwarrow who never got peace. They’ll tear your soul, screaming, from your body then climb in and wear you. Don't be stupid.”

Fili looked at his uncle, looked past his uncle at the echo as the woman screamed silently over the unmoving form of her child, as the flames caught the end of her skirt. He felt it, just for a second, the grief, the hopelessness, the smoke in his lungs, the blistering heat of the fire licking over his skin.

Back at his brother, bright eyed and holding his breath as he waited for Fili to say something. “I’ll come.”

Kili beamed at him, so bright it made everything else faded and thin in comparison. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3, Inspired by Canon: The road to Erebor is…complicated. And by complicated Fili means the two rundown vans, cameras that won’t stop rolling (damn this modern age of social media) a misfit crew consisting of Uncle Thorin and friends, medium-slash-burglar Bilbo Baggins, the supposedly psychic ‘Ri brothers, the ‘Urs (Kili’s film crew), and stow away cousin Gimili. And Kili. And Fili. And the tension. And the ghosts. Especially the ghosts. …or maybe especially the tension. One of those for sure. Probably the tension.
> 
> But, if I can manage it, there should be a chapter between this and that. Wish me luck. *deep breath* 
> 
> To recap: Kili, sees all sorts of stuff and has some abilities Fili vaguely alluded to in the last chapter.  
> Fili: Ghosts and ghostly empathy. Monster bait.  
> Gimli: Tired of Fili's shit. Knows stuff.  
> Frerin: Also tired of Fili. Dead


	3. No Way You Were Ever In Your Right Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili take a drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call the cops, call your lifeline  
> There's no way you were ever in your right mind  
> Cut your loss at the tideline  
> It will cave from the waves when they pass by  
> It's a shot, it's a tight wind  
> We'll be caught in forever for a long time  
> But your touch gets me so high  
> And feeling sorry for myself at the same time
> 
> ~The Brinks, Temporary Love

**** They left his apartment early the next morning. Fili packed a bag, slipped knives into the lining of it while Kili watched him with a wry grin, cleaned out his kitchen of anything that might spoil, made sure all the windows were locked up good and tight, argued fiercely with his boss then hung up on the man while he was mid-shout, and then hopped into the passenger side of Kili’s car. 

Kili didn’t start up the car right away, frowning at him so intently it made Fili’s skin prickle and heat. He was very seriously considering climbing into the backseat to avoid that penetrating gaze when his brother finally spoke. “Are you going to come back and not have a job?”

“No. I’m the best mechanic in Bree, I could come back a year from now and there’d still be work.” It was as much truth as it was a boast. He’d always been good with his hands, had been a fairly good smith and even dabbled in jewelry making at their Aunt ‘Hild, Gimli’s mother, elbow, but here in the city of men it was mechanic work that had called to him. It was familiar, in it’s way, and there was a sort of comfort in the dirt and grease, peace to be found in getting his hands on things, in breaking down and rebuilding them seeing his work come to life. 

There were never any echoes or spirits, beyond Frerin, when he was working.  

“And so modest.”  

Fili smirked; for a moment it was like it had been before, when he’d been all swagger and confidence and Kili had made it his duty to remind him he hadn’t done that much yet. “Modesty is for people who don’t know they’re good, Kee, I thought you knew that.” 

Kili huffed out a laugh and shook his head but said no more. Instead he asked where the nearest place to grab food was and, when Fili waved a hand in a way that would have been too vague for for anyone else to understand, started up the car and headed in the right direction. As his apartment shrank behind them Fili found some of the tension that had settled on his shoulders dissipating. 

He leaned back in his seat and let his eyes close as his mind wandered, waving away an offer for coffee. There had been no rest last night but now that they were on their way perhaps he could manage a little. 

Fili had half expected, as he had sat and watched ink begin to take form on Kili’s shoulder blades and back the day before, for Gimli to stride into the shop and strangle him. When they headed back to his apartment for the night and Kili crashed face first into the bed Fili considered leaving the door unlocked just in case Gimli decided to show up. If Gimli kicked in the door, or worse used his axe on it, in the pursuit of knocking his teeth down his throat Fili wouldn’t get his security deposit back; it was best to avoid that. At the very least he was expecting a furious phone call full of accusation and sat up late into the night dreading it. 

His cousin had been very plain about him needing to turn Kili down and Fili hadn't even managed to entertain that idea for a whole minute before agreeing to what his brother asked of him. It was just as Gimli had said, saying no to Kili was nearly impossible for him at the best of times.

And Kili looking at him like he had, so openly hopeful and needing something of him, was not the best of times when it came to refusing him. Especially not when Kili seemed to think that Fili no longer believed him, or believed in him, and wanted nothing more than to prove that the faith he’d shown in their youth hadn’t been misplaced. Fili knew that it hadn’t, knew it well because of what he could see with his own eyes and even if that hadn’t been the case there was nothing in the world that could make him doubt his brother. That Kili even thought such a thing cut deeper than Fili had known anything could. He bled hurt and shame like a physical wound, stinging but refusing to be staunched, all day.

It was his fault. The distance, for starters. Fili’s self imposed near exile and frequent silence would have been enough to make Kili wonder all on its own without any other circumstances added in, and Fili would have understood. But there was more to it than that, including Fili not so kindly telling Kili he was done hearing about his visions and otherworldly friends shortly before fleeing to Bree. 

_ “Kili!” He’d shouted, cutting off whatever his brother had been about to say. He’d let Kili get as far as ‘skin changer’ before his patience had snapped. He couldn’t do this, not anymore. “Stop. I won’t hear any more about this.”  _

_ Kili’s face, always so easy to read, was at first startled then crumpled into something confused and wounded, then finally settled into concern. He reached for him, head cocked to the side. “What-”  _

_ “No more.” Fili stepped back, avoiding Kili's touch, and darted into their shared bedroom. “I can’t take another word.” He shut the door in his brother’s shocked face _

If Kili had known the truth, that Fili could see the dead and was besieged on all sides by what no one else could see...but no, that was an excuse. Kili had lived his entire life that way, from the time he was a babe babbling at the shadows in his crib, and never once had he taken it out on Fili. Would that Fili had been able to do the same but instead he’d lashed out then withdrawn to attempt to deal with the never ending horror show that followed him everywhere and the headaches, the flashes of emotion and pain that wasn’t his own and often threatened to drag him screaming into the darkness of his mind, the cries of the dead, and everything else all alone. 

Maybe if he’d told Kili things would have been different. At first he’d needed time to understand what had happened, to get his head on straight and process what he could see. Then he’d gotten wrapped up in it, ignored Frerin’s warnings in favor of a different ghost who’d promised him control and an end to the near constant pain if he just...let it in. It had been only the second spirit he’d encountered with it’s sanity intact and hadn’t come with the seriousness and dire warnings of his uncle.  _ Do not hide from death, _ it had whispered to him in the stillness of night,  _ let it in and take hold of it. Bend it to your whims. Make it yours. Your brother does not fear the other world, why should you? _

He had been so very stupid to think he could open a door for death and not be changed by it. Even if that spirit had been benevolent, and it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have walked away unscathed and now, looking back, he didn’t know how he’d been so fooled.  

After that there had been no telling. He couldn’t bare Kili knowing and blaming himself for Fili’s sight and, though he hated to admit to such selfishness, he didn’t want his brother to know what a fool he had been. 

And still was, willing to follow his brother as he was. He owed it to Kili, owed him far more, and yet he dreaded it. Sleep hadn’t come to him that night. He’d sat up on the couch, having convinced Kili to stay in the bed and then waved off the offer to share (“It’s not as if we haven’t before.” Kili slurred sleepily.), and watched his brother sleep. 

Frerin had been missing all night. He’d vanished in a fit of pique, cursing Thorin, Kili, and Fili as fools who’d see their line end in fire, in turn, and it was probably for the best; this wasn’t a vigil Fili wanted anyone to watch him keep, shameful and pathetic as it was. 

It had been a long time since he’d watched Kili sleep. He’d forgotten how it made him look younger, something his brother would have hated to hear, and swept all the stress away from his features. He’d slept on his belly, sheets bunched up around his waist, cuddled up with Fili’s pillows, mouth open as he pushed softs pants out past his lips, and Fili had stared while feeling every bit the creep he knew he was. 

When Fili finally pulled his eyes from his brother’s face it was to run over the planes of Kili’s bare back, traced over the shining black ink and memorized them in the dim light the stars and halfmoon outside provided. It was stark and dark against the light olive of his skin, still slightly red and raw after the work was done. The outline of the raven’s body was on the right side of Kili’s body, stretching from shoulder to where the tail feathers curled at the base of his spine; one of the outstretched wings swept over to his other shoulder. It wasn’t nearly done yet, little more than the outline done in cirth runes and twisted connecting lines, but it was...striking to Fili’s eyes. He could imagine it when it was done, dark feathers and sharp eyes, protecting his brother’s back. 

A shiver had crept through his body that he couldn’t fully blame on the open balcony doors. 

Kili’s hair, unbound and wild, brushed over the bird in dark rippling waves, curling just the barest amounts at the ends. When he moved in his sleep, twisted and turned this way and that before clutching Fili’s pillow and burying his face into it before stilling again, the bird undulated and stretched with the movement of his muscles. 

When Fili turned his head just right, squinted just so, and only let himself see it from the corner of his eye it seemed to shiver with life.  

That, he decided as he let his attention slide down along Kili’s spine to where his borrowed sleep pants had ridden low to show a hint of soft curve, was a disturbing tattoo indeed. He wasn’t yet ready to deal with magic as a real thing and would have prefered that raven act normally if for no other reason than his peace of mind. 

The sound of rustling wings and an odd sense that he was being judged had sent him out onto his small balcony in irritation. 

He hadn’t mentioned it, unsure how ‘I believe your tattoo came to life and shamed me when I was perhaps eyeing you up’ would go over. 

He was dreaming about the damn thing coming to life and pecking his eyes out, a bothersome look at his psyche if ever there was one, when Kili shook him awake to present him with a burger and announce it was his time to drive. A glance at the clock found it was past noon and a look around told him they were far from Bree and near the turn off for the old road that cut through the thick forest separating the Shire from the rest of the world. 

Fili had never been, having no reason to visit the insular hobbits who didn’t leave their lands and always opting to take the major road around on the rare occasion he drove back to Ered Luin, but he’d heard things. Green rolling hills, fields that were always plentiful, homes carved right into the hills (that, at least, was something a dwarf could relate to) and a very slow, unhurried way of life with no desire for excitement or adventure. Few hobbits ever left the Shire and of those who did most never went any further than Bree. 

Fili had known a few in his time at the university but none had seemed to have any interest in befriending a dwarf. He had no idea how a halfing was to help Kili on his ghost hunt, as it were, or would even be interested in making the trip to Erebor. 

He asked his brother as much once they were driving again. The forest loomed before them and once they took the exit the road split into two weather beaten single lane ones, separated by a few yards of bushes and smaller trees, one flowing out of the forest and the other in. The one they were on literally cut through some of the largest trees Fili had ever seen in his life. So entranced was he in looking up at the inside of the trunks as they passed through the tunnel it had become he barely realized Kili had yet to answer him. 

“I don’t know much about the hobbit.” Kili confessed with a sigh. “I just know Thorin’s contact, who approached him with a back way into the mountain, insisted we take along a hobbit. Supposedly he’ll be ‘invaluable’ and knows a great deal about communicating with and convincing ghosts to useful.” 

Fili narrowed his eyes in thought. In his experience there wasn’t much communicating to be done and when there was spirits were not much inclined to do anything that didn’t benefit them. But, then, what did he really know? It was wholly possible he’d just been unlucky and that there was much more to spirits than he actually knew. Maybe this hobbit was an expert in such matters and Fili would be able to quietly glean some useful knowledge from him. 

“I’m bringing my own crew, to help with the recording and the...ghost part.” Kili added after a expectant beat of silence that Fili didn’t fill. “Uncle is bringing people as well. Misters Dwalin-”

Fili closed his eyes briefly, memories of cowering before their uncle’s best, and oldest, friend filling his mind. “Of course. I’m sure the spirits will love being barked at by Dwalin and hop right to helping us.” 

Kili’s sigh was the only sign that he agreed. “Balin, Oin, and Gloin.” 

“An old cop, a professor, a healer, and a banker. And Thorin.” Fili’s fingers drummed against the wheel. Another sarcastic comment was sitting on his tongue but, when he let himself consider it objectively he did see one very big, and useful commonality. “They’re all from Erebor. We won’t need maps, I suppose.” 

“And are funding this.” Kili added with a shrug. Fili arched an eyebrow and got a quirked eyebrow in return. “The crew and equipment, vans, food, fuel? It all has to come from somewhere. Don’t tell uncle but if he hadn’t thought about those things it would be the two of us recording this on our phones.” 

“And who do you bring to the table, aside from me?” Fili asked, not dwelling on the fact that the scenario didn’t actually sound all that bad. 

This had Kili perking up a little, that fever bright excitement returning to his eyes. “The crew, the cousins ‘Ur. Bifur and Bofur for the cameras and Bombur for sound. And food; he works miracles with a camping stove according to Bofur. I don’t think they actually believe in ghosts or anything but they do good work and are excited about the project...and were the only ones who answered the ad.”  

“Oh.” 

“The Brothers ‘Ri.” Fili whipped around to look at his brother in alarm. “Watch the road! Do you want to hit a tree and kill us?” 

“Maybe? If by ‘Ri you mean Nori, as in Nori and Dwalin in the same space at the same time then...yes. I think I’d rather die in a fiery crash.” That said he did drag his eyes forward again. There hadn’t been much danger, it was a straight shot with no other vehicles to be seen and not but trees and more trees, so tall that they created a leafy overlapping canopy that hid the sky. “What were you thinking? ...When did Nori get out of prison?” 

Kili made an annoyed sound. “He was never in prison, that's an ugly rumor and you should be above such things. ...he, you know, ran off before he could be arrested so, technically, it’s like he didn’t do anything wrong at all.” 

“That is not how that works!” 

“Are you certain?” 

“Yes!” 

He could see Kili cross his arms over his chest from the corner of his eye and knew his brother was sulking. “My options were limited. There aren’t exactly a lot of dwarrows eager to make this trip or claiming to be psychics-” 

Fili resisted the urge to turn the car around and head back to Bree. “Nori, Son of Duri, professional conman and thief-”

“I don’t think one can be a professional thief.” Kili said musingly. “It’s not a real profession, is it?”

“Told you he was a psychic.” Fili continued, ignoring his brother. “And you accepted that? Have you completely lost your mind?” Kili’s answering laugh was dark and bitter; guilt bubbled up in Fili immediately and an apology was trying to form itself before he even realized it. “Fuck, Kee, I didn’t mean to-” 

Kili flapped a hand at him dismissively. “It’s fine. It isn’t as if there aren’t plenty of dwarrows who say the same thing when they think I can’t hear it.” 

Fili gripped the wheel tighter, teeth grinding together so hard an ache formed in his jaw. Would that he could get his hands on everyone who had ever questioned Kili’s sanity or accused him of madness, himself included. 

“And it wasn’t Nori who came to me, it was Ori when he heard I was looking for someone with unique abilities. He said that all three of them have different strengths but Nori has always been the strongest.” Fili scoffed; Kili reached over to shove him lightly. “Dori backs him up. You know Dori wouldn’t vouch for Nori, or let Ori come along, lightly.” 

Ori was similar in age to himself, Fili, and Gimli and, with as few children were born to their people and age mates a precious commodity, they’d tried to regularly include the younger dwarf in their games. They hadn’t known enough in those days to realize that the long trek to Ori’s tiny home on the very outskirts of Ered Luin was a matter of poverty or that some would look unfavorably on association with the youngest of the controversial ‘Ri family (but not upon them, nephews of Thorin and the son of Gloin too naive to know the privilege those titles afforded them, but of Ori for daring to ‘presume’ he was worth their time). They hadn’t understood why Dori was reluctant to ever let Ori leave their little plot of land with them or what it took for Dori to always have treats for when they visited. 

They hadn’t yet known the world enough to be anything but upset when Ori stopped coming to lessons to become an apprentice and begin to work, a full ten years before Fili would in spite of the age difference. 

What they had always known was that Dori was overprotective to the point of Ori enduring much teasing. He’d barely allow even Nori to take Ori anywhere and if he was giving his permission for this, and going along as well, there was something to it. Fili didn’t think a greater seal of approval existed in all the world. And it went without saying that the tailor would never lie, or allow his brothers to lie, to Kili or any member of their line. He took propriety too seriously for that. 

Kili shifted in his seat then sighed, leaning his head against the glass. “There were no other options besides. I'm lucky to have anyone at all.” 

A petty, hypocritical part of Fili flared to life. “It’s well and good for them to join in now saying their 'psychic' , when it may have benefit for them, and not years ago when it might have helped you.”

“Helped me how?” Kili snapped in a rare show of temper then, as quickly as it had gone sharp, his tone softened. “I wondered, at first, why Ori never said anything when we were younger. I would have-it would have been...but. It makes sense, when you think about it. With how people talked about me I don’t want to even think about how they would have spoken of Ori or would have done to him.” 

A fair point. 

“Fine, but at the first sign Nori is up to something-” 

“You’ll know he’s messing with you?” Kili asked, voice sugary sweet with mockery. Fili squinted, unsure if he’d ever had his brother speak to him so before. “Because there’s no way you’d know he was up to something otherwise.” 

...another good point. 

“You said we’re meeting at an inn?” 

“The Green Dragon.” Kili pointed at his phone, currently resting in the center console. The GPS showed a very long road cutting through a lot of green. “That’s where we’re going. Hobbiton, that’s where Master Boggins lives, doesn’t allow for cars in residential areas, so we’ll walk once we’ve gathered the others.” 

“No cars?” 

“They say they disturb the peace, and the roads aren’t nearly wide enough. I’ve seen pictures, it’s all dirt and cobblestone that hasn’t been updated in hundreds of years by the looks of things.” 

“Huh. Hobbits are strange.” 

Kili hummed his agreement.

\----

They reached Hobbiton just after nightfall and were promptly informed by Ori, as slight, nervous, and as fond of oversized sweaters as Fili recalled him being,  that first Dwalin and then Balin had already headed out to the Hobbit’s home rather wait for the rest (Fili, Kili, Thorin, and the Cousins Ur) to arrive. 

Fili and Kili exchanged twin looks of horror and, telling Ori to continue waiting with his brothers, hurried out to find Bag End in hopes that, if they could not beat Dwalin, they could at least minimize the damage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. In theory, there will be more later today. This doesn’t fit the theme for the day (...okay, it does, but I have something else in mind) but I refused to be denied Fili ogling his brother’s back. And there’s like. More backstory, I guess, if you’re into that. But mostly the back ogling.
> 
> http://achryathesecond.tumblr.com/post/162843484264/faith-and-desire The songs so far for this fic and a picture of the tattoo that inspired Kili's. Beware, my blog is hella NSFW so. Maybe just. View that. And then not anything else. lol.


	4. It's Killing Me to See You This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3, Inspired by Canon: Dinner with one Bilbo Baggins, Death Speaker, is...complicated. Fili makes some promises he probably should have considered more carefully. 
> 
>  
> 
> "I don't like walking around this old and empty house  
> So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear  
> The stairs creak as I sleep,  
> It's keeping me awake  
> It's the house telling you to close your eyes  
> And some days I can't even trust myself  
> It's killing me to see you this way  
> 'Cause though the truth may vary  
> This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore  
> There's an old voice in my head  
> That's holding me back  
> Well tell her that I miss our little talks  
> Soon it will all be over, and buried with our past  
> We used to play outside when we were young  
> And full of life and full of love  
> Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right.  
> Your mind is playing tricks on you my dear"
> 
> Of Monsters and Men, Little Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I told myself I'd get this out yesterday I was lying to myself. Longest chapter yet.
> 
> Also there are some additions to the ship tags but it's still going to be very Fili and Kili centered, at least until the end of Fiki week. After that we'll see.

Bag End was one of many hobbit homes (Smials, Kili corrected lightly as they jogged down the winding dirt paths. Fili rolled his eyes and repeated ‘Smials’ in a fair approximation of his brother’s voice.) but the only with a door painted a cheerful green. Also the only one with cirth runes glowing faintly on the door, stating, of all things ‘ _Burglar-Death Speaker wants a good job, plenty of Excitement, and reasonable Reward_ ’.

Burglar-Death Speaker? He could see the use in a 'Death Speaker', presuming that meant what it sounded like it meant, yes, but a burglar? And one who advertised to brazenly? Just what kind of company was Kili putting together here? Fili tilted to his head to the side in question, knowing it would all be understood without words, and Kili shrugged at him.

“No clue, but at least we know this is our hobbit.”

Fili nodded; he sincerely doubted there was another hobbit who claimed to be able to converse with the dead and just happened to live in Hobbiton and have a green door and so this must have been the place. He took a step forward and lifted his hand to knock onto to have his wrist grabbed before it could make contact. He turned, cocking an eyebrow as he readier for whatever prank or irreverent thing Kili had to say but found his brother had gone very pale and his eyes grown round and huge in his face. Fili frowned and, without realizing he was doing it, twisted his hand around so he was grasping Kili’s hand.

“What is it?”

“I just...a moment.” Kili said. “This is...once we start this we’ve really started it, you know? I’ve spent so long thinking about this and planning it, imagining what it’ll be like when I can finally prove that there's no madness in our line anymore.”

Fili looked away for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. No madness perhaps but there was no mistaking that there was something strange about the line of Durin and whatever it was seemed to have grown strong indeed in himself, Kili, and Gimli. (The latter he didn't know the details of, and he dismissed it when Frerin brought it up, but to deny it in his own mind was pointless. Gimli knew things and was as strange as the rest of them.)

“Or I won't prove anything at all and I'll go home a failure.” Kili squeezed his hand so tight Fili felt pins and needles in his fingertips. “Everyone will think I'm truly mad if we do all this and come back with nothing. Money wasted, time spent, breaking into Erebor, risking Smaug finding out and it might be for nothing.”

Kili closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “What if this doesn't work?”

Fili stared up at his brother, taking in wetness gathering in his eyes and the tremble he could feel through their clasped hands then reached up to curl his other hand around the back of Kili’s neck. He tugged the taller dwarf down to bring their foreheads together with a gentle thump. There were things he could, should and needed to, say but Fili’s strength had never been in his words.

When they'd been young and the teasing Kili endured at its peak his brother had often be able to avert serious incidents with words alone. So too could he cause them in the same manner, hurling insults that cut like knives and spitting venom when he was well and truly upset. He was charming when he wished to be, had talked more than a few into not just forgetting that he was meant to be mad but into being half in love with him while Fili watched in awe.

And with the sickening seep of jealousy spreading through him like poison always followed by guilt because how could he be angry on the rare occasion someone saw his brother as he did and couldn’t help but adore him?

Fili’s strength was in his hands, as it always had been. Not that he couldn’t speak, couldn’t make words turn to honey in his mouth when he needed them to, but it had never come easily to him. It had never mattered because he’d always had Kili at his side to do it for him, to cajole and smile and deflect with his words while Fili brought his presence (swagger and smug grins to hear their mother tell it.) And when it called for it he brought he fists; many a loud mouth dwarf had found speaking ill of Kili in Fili’s earshot wasn’t worth the trouble.

There were no words between them, just the press of forehead to forehead, slow even breathing that Kili easily matched, and Fili’s thumb stroking over the short buzzed hair at the base of Kili’s neck. Fili knew that for everything that was between them there were would never be a distance so large or strain so great that it would make it so Kili couldn’t understand this, understand him. He couldn’t make any promises, wouldn’t risk being made a liar on top of everything else, but he could do this, as he’d done a thousands times before for a younger Kili when things got to be too much for him.

Kili closed his eyes and breathed out, warm and slow over Fili’s skin. Once, twice, three times before he opened his eyes. His brother smiled again, only a hint of tension at the corners of his mouth, and stepped back. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Fili swallowed hard, forcing back the knot that had grown in his throat and the terrible longing in his chest, and nodded.  

Kili knocked, firm and strong. There were noises on the other side, deep rumbles and what sounded suspiciously like the sound of something crashing to the ground. Fili looked askance at Kili. Kili’s sideways look spoke volumes.

The door swung open and warm golden light spilled out over them. At the threshold was a hobbit, wide eyes darting around anxiously behind honey-brown curls that seemed to perfectly reflect just how frazzled the hobbit was. He was shorter than them, softer than one might see in all but the richest dwarrows (and so not among any in the Blue Mountains), wearing not but a well worn dressing down, held tightly closed by hands that were going white knuckled from the pressure.

Behind him, from inside his home, Fili could hear two familiar gruff voices. So much for beating Dwalin and Balin. Oh well, not to do about it now.

“Fili-”

“And Kili-”

“Sons of Dis-”

“At your service.” They finished in unison, bowing slightly. There wasn’t much cause for formal greetings these days but it never hurt to be extra polite when one was following Dawlin somewhere. Dwalin was a great dwarf, had done great things and stood beside Thorin to protect and aid their people...but he was not known for his warm nature or manners.

And that was a bit of an understatement to be sure.

“You must be Mr. Boggins!” Kili said, bouncing on the balls of his feet eagerly.

“Boggins? No, I should- Bilbo Baggins at yours and-” The hobbit stopped. Looked at Kili. Looked at Fili. “No. Absolutely not! No more dwarves here, I’ve had quite enough, you have the wrong house, thank you very much!” He said it so resolutely and began shutting the door so fast that Fili could only stare in shock.

Kili wasn’t so inclined and jumped to action, foot jammed into place before the door could slam in their faces. Thankfully his brother still favored heavy, sturdy boots over the various styles of men and didn’t even flinch. The hobbit however squeaked in horror and wrenched the door open again.

“Are you okay? Why would you-”

Kili interrupted, a frantic note to his voice. “Has it been canceled?”

“Did you get a message about it being canceled?” Fili asked, resisting the urge to sigh. “When did you check your phone last?” Kili shrugged.

The hobbit blinked. “What? No, nothing's been canceled, what-.”

Kili beamed and, with none of the charm Fili knew he was capable of, pushed past the startled hobbit. The hobbit-Bilbo Baggins it seemed- turned around, gaping, as Kili peered around curiously before tossing a cheeky grin over his shoulder before vanishing down a hallway; Fili groaned and Mister Baggins squawked, flailing in alarm. Kili’s voice floated after him.

“This is nice, this place. Very homey. Did you do it yourself?”

“What, no no. It’s been in the family for years and- oh.” Another blink then a tug at the lapels of his dressing gown that seemed decidedly pleased. Fili amended his statement about Kili not turning on the charm; he had just, it seemed, learned to be more subtle about it. “Yes, well, thank you. My father made it for my mother, it’s the finest in all of Hobbiton if I may say so. The absolute envy of some who should count themselves lucky I allow them in for tea with the way they scheme, especially considering they’ve not yet married into the family.”

Fili quirked an eyebrow as the hobbit began to grumble under his breath about rude not-quite relatives, all but forgetting all about his visitors. Kili reappeared and there was something wild in his eyes that made Fili think of nights where they crept out and ran to the woods, of sitting on a rock while his brother flitted between shadow and moonlit pools, a strange fey creature with wild laughter on his lips.

He shook his head to banish the image.

“Fili, Kili. Come on, give us...what have you done to yourself lad!” Dwalin, huge and imposing as ever stopped in his tracked, staring at Kili as if he’d never seen him before. “Your hair! And where is the rest of your shirt?”

Kili ran fingertips over on of the buzzed sides of his head, wearing a smile that showed entirely too many teeth. Fili forgot how to breathe. “I got it done in Bree. I think it suits me.”

Dwalin eyed him then craned his neck to fix his faze on Fili. “You let him do this to himself?”

“What?” Fili asked, breathless.

“From you I expected this, knew all the time among men would get you all mixed up.” Dwalin snagged Kili by the elbow and began to tug him away.

Fili mouthed ‘what’ to Kili who bit his lip like he was suppressing laughter.

“But to influence your poor brother! Shame on you Fili, did you even think about how Dis is going to react to this? Shout down the entire mountain I’d wager.”

“...what?” The last thing Fili saw before they were gone into the room Dwalin had come from was Kili’s grin and wink. “What just happened?”

“I believe you’re in trouble.” Mister Baggins informed him with more than a hint of tartness. Fili squinted at him, got a flinty look in return, frowned, and for lack of anything better to do followed after his brother. Balin was there as well, hands on Kili’s shoulders to hold him at a distance, face a mask of horror, while Dwalin stood just to the side shaking his head mournfully.

Even further back was a hobbitess, small even by the standards Fili knew, with thick chocolate colored curls pinned up and away from a soft face and hard calculating eyes. She was watching them all, mouth set into a thin displeased line, fists perched on her hips and entire body swaying forward like she was working her way up to a good shout. It was a stance and expression Fili had seen on his mother many a times in life and he nearly stepped back out of the room to escape the tongue lashing that was surely coming.  

Blue-green flicked over to him then widened. She flickered, shuddered, and Fili's stomach dropped. Oh. Oh fuck him. He hadn’t realized, hadn’t known to not look at her directly. She was so...alive looking. Full of color, emotion, and, dare he say it, life. Even her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkled.

Not even Frerin looked so  _real_.

“You can see me!” She pointed at him, face going slack in shock. She looked, he thought with a slightly hysterical laugh, like she’d seen a ghost. “...you can see me. Oh. This is very good news, Master Fili was it? Very good.”

He disagreed with that very strongly.

“Fee?” Kili called. “Is something wrong?”

Everyone was looking at him now, even Mister Baggins, with varying expressions of worry. Fili licked his bottom lip then shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Just thinking about the look on uncle’s face when he sees you.”

“Oi.” Kili’s furrowed brows of concern became an eyeroll. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Fili spared a quick look for the hobbitess, who looked awed, then moved to his brother’s side to shove him gently. “I’m always on, and at, your side.”

Kili’s ears went pink at the tip. 

\---

The hobbitess introduced herself as Belladonna Baggins, nee Took, the mother of one very fussy Bilbo Baggins. Fili didn’t respond to or look at her directly as she chattered away, taking advantage of not needing to breathe or pause, but she didn’t seem to mind it and, in fact, hummed her approval.

“It wouldn’t do to be seen talking to the air, it’s seen as rather queer by all the races.” She said as she perched on the end of the table and bobbed her head along to the song as they began to clean up. “Took me years to learn that.”

She laughed heartily as her son flitted around in a panic, all of the irritation in her seeming to melt away the more flustered Bilbo became. She smiled softly at Ori, circling him as she took in his oversized sweater with it’s patches and frayed edges, before drifting over to Dori. Her hands ghosted over Dori’s cheek, became like mist when contact would have been made.

“He tries very hard doesn’t he? A mother can tell these things.”

Nori she regarded with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow when Nori leaned away from her just so, though he never looked at her directly.

Bombur she seemed to find delightful, remarking that a healthy appetite was the sign of a healthy soul and mind. Bifur and Bofur she eyed curiously, nodding as she watched Bifur’s fingers move to make his words, before moving on to Oin. Oin started, shivered, then squinted hard at the spirit before finally shaking his head and returning to his (very loud) conversation with Gloin, who got a brief glance from Belladonna before she finally returned to Fili’s side.

Gandalf, the man who would supposedly tell them of a backway into Erebor, got nothing but a derisive snort.

Fili was still unsure what to make of her when Thorin arrived, Frerin’s spirit at his heel, and his night proceeded to become that much stranger. The two ghosts eyed each other skeptically, Belladonna puffing up and somehow staring down in disapproval at Frerin in spite of being nearly two heads shorter, and Frerin frowning like one would do at a particularly vexing rock.

Fili tried to not watch the exchange too openly, focusing instead on his uncle making a grand mess of things. Fili winced when Thorin, scowling fiercely, said the hobbit looked more like a grocer than a burglar or medium. Bilbo sputtered, looking taken aback, before declaring loudly.

“Well I should think so!”

No one but Fili was listening, the rest having filed back to the table to hear what Thorin had to say. Fili offered him a weak smile before following his people. He slipped into a seat between his brother and Ori. Belladonna and Frerin both followed, taking spots behind him but staying as far away from each other as possible.  

“What have I told you about exposing yourself to other spirits? Do you want a repeat of last time?” Frerin asked, voice sharp. “They’re dangerous-”

“Dangerous?” Belladonna echoed, the picture of offense. “Me? If anyone is dangerous here, master dwarf, it is your kin to my Bilbo! Bursting in unannounced,” Fili sat up straighter. Unannounced? They hadn’t been expected? “Emptying his pantry, tossing around his dishes-” At the time she had laughed rather loudly at that but Fili kept his mouth shut as she continued. “Touching the antiques, that Nori is eyeing the silver most intently,”

Fili shot Nori a look but found the redhead leaning back in his seat, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He stared at Fili placidly, not a hint of any ill intent on his face. Fili trusted it exactly as much as he trusted most ghosts.

“And insulting Bilbo! The rudeness of you all and then you have the nerve to, in my home, call me dangerous.”

Frerin huffed; Fili knew it for the giving in that it was. He also knew that, while Frerin would say nothing else tonight, he’d be hearing about it later. He could feel the headache that would bring already. 

“A quest?” Bilbo echoed, cocking an eyebrow. “What year is this? Who goes on quests anymore?”

Thorin laid a cool look upon the hobbit. “Those who have had their home taken away and their names dishonored.”

Bilbo rocked back on his heels. “Well when you put it like that.”

“Do you, master hobbit, know of Erebor?” Balin asked, leaning forward.

“The condemned dwarf mine?” Bilbo asked. “I know a little. That was far before my time though, over a century now, wasn’t it?”

“It was much more than a mine, lad.” Balin’s words were gentle but his face was all hard edges, like it was carved from stone. “It was our home, the shining jewel of our people, and there’s been nothing like it since, nor shall there be.”

“We’re going to take it back.” Thorin added, eyes staring past them all at something only he could see. “We will see it returned to us and taken from the hands of Smaug.” The last word was spat like a curse as Thorin slammed his fist onto the table.

“Smaug?”

“Smaug the terrible.” Bofur said with surprising cheer. “Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Nasty piece of work that one.”

Thorin’s face clouded over further and even Fili shivered. “Smaug the betrayer. The mind and word twister, the thief. _Worm_. Some say he is a man but he has lived since my grandfather’s time and ages not. Others say he is a wizard, last of his kind, an unnatural thing that should have long since passed on from our world. ”

“You see,” Gandalf said, and perhaps it was Fili’s imagination but he looked a bit...grumpy. “There was a time when Thror, Thorin’s grandfather, led the mountain as lord or governor, if you will, and through some...ahem, unfortunate circumstances it would seem he signed a series of contracts with Smaug that gave away control of Erebor upon his death.”

“Allegedly.” Thorin grunted.

“Yes yes. Thorin, and many others, believe that this is false. It is true that Thror is dead and cannot say one way or the other, and was greatly diminished by the time the tragedy that took his life occurred, and the only witnesses to these deals are Smaug’s men.” Gandalf shifted, turning strangely clear blue eyes upon the Hobbit. “It is also true Thror’s will, the only document that may have challenged Smaug, is missing. Without it none of the other dwarf cities and leaders will come to Thorin’s aid against Smaug.”

Thorin looked bitter at the very mention of how, thus far, none but their cousin Dain had ever seen fit to lend aid to them and in this even Dain would not help. Find the will, he’d told Thorin, and I will send every lawyer on my mountain to help, but not before. Fili was both surprised and not surprised at all that they would be going it alone.

“Where is the will?” Bilbo asked and that brought a moment of awkward silence. Thorin looked at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest while Dwalin coughed and tapped his fingers on the table. Balin coughed into his beard and even Gloin looked a bit...put out by the question. Bilbo looked around the table then, finally, turned to Gandalf. “Well?”

The man smiled wanly. “No one knows. We suspect it is in Erebor, as Thror was loathe to leave under any circumstances, but we know not where. He had become...how should I put it?”

“Paranoid.” Kili supplied, ignoring the betrayed looks sent his way. “Completely paranoid. He hid that which he found most important from even his family.” And also had been completely orc shit crazy but Fili supposed it would be inappropriate to add that.

Bilbo tilted his head to the side, face scrunching up in thought. “So you plan to what, search all of Erebor? I mean. I imagine it’s a fairly large mountain, what with it...being a mountain. And all. Those tend to be large.”

“Aye, that it is.” Balin agreed, smiling fleetingly. “And no, that is not our plan. It would take years to search everywhere. No, we’re going to take a less conventional route.”

Kili nodded. This was, Fili could tell, his part to explain. “We’re going to ask those who are left in Erebor. People in Dale, before Dale emptied out, reported seeing apparitions and hearing dwarf-speech when they strayed close to the mountain. They’d see lights burning at night when none had been there for years. We-I- think there are spirits who walk the mountain and that we can, perhaps, persuade them to help. Maybe even Thror himself is still there.”

There was some grumbling, mostly from Gloin and Dwalin who looked like the very words coming from Kili’s mouth were causing him pain. No surprise there; they would never say it outloud but more than once he’d caught even family looking at Kili with sadness and pity. Thorin especially though it seemed he had experienced a change of heart because he looked almost serene now, nodding encouragingly. Kili hesitated over his words, face flushing pink in the face of Thorin’s approval.

Suddenly Fili was unsure if Kili had approached their uncle with this plan or if it had been the other way around.  

Frerin made a low distressed noise. “Damn that fool boy and damn my brother.” And was gone with none of his usual dramatic fanfare, which was fairly dramatic in it’s own way. Fili bit his lower lip, a low thrum of dread pulsing in his chest in time with his heart.

He trusted Frerin when he said going to Erebor was a bad idea and that he would come to regret it. There was no doubt in his mind that his uncle was right. It just...didn’t matter. Kili needed him and so he had to go, no matter what they might find when they got there.

“And that’s why we need someone to talk to the dead.” Kili finished with a flourish. “And could, perhaps, sneak past the particularly angry ones to liberate the will, if need be.”

Bilbo nodded solemnly, tugging on his suspenders. “Yes. You’ll need a very skilled death speaker for that. An expert, I’d imagine, to do what you ask.”

“And are you?” Gloin asked, a touch of mocking to his voice.

Bilbo looked around in confusion, even going so far as to twist around to glance over his shoulder. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert!” Oin cheered. Fili cut his eyes to the side, not bothering to hide his bewildered look, and was not at all surprised to see that the older dwarf’s hearing aids were nowhere in sight. For Mahal’s sake, who had let him get this far like that? Oin was damn near stone deaf, except of course he could hear and read stone perfectly well. (Well enough to possess some small amount of foresight, supposedly, but then Oin had long been considered ‘odd’, but tolerable since he rarely spoke of it, unlike Kili.)

Bilbo practically jumped back and began waving his hands and wagging his head. “Me? No no no no. I’m not a death speaker! I have...I have never spoken to a dead thing in all my life. No. My mother, now, yes, she was quite skilled, the best the Shire had seen, but I have no talent for it.”

Balin sighed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with Mister Baggins. He’s hardly medium material is he?”

“Nope.” Bilbo agreed.

“Aye,” Dwalin said. “And the trip to Erebor will not be one for gentle folk, nor will the things we see there, especially for one who has never seen such ugly things.”

At this Bilbo went still, a shadow passing over his face. “Well now, see here-”

“We still have us.” Ori pointed to himself and his brothers. “We can do it. And who knows what Kili might see once we’re there!”

Fili felt the color drain from his face. What would Kili see once they were in Erebor?

Everyone began talking at once, gesturing and pointing and pounding on the table as they fought to be heard. Fili sighed and covered his face with his hands, feeling a familiar throbbing beginning behind his eyes.

“Enough! Enough!” Gandalf shouted; his presence seemed to grow and fill the room with a terrible energy and the shadows around him darkened. The air became physically heavy, pushing down on all of them. All at once everyone went silent and Bilbo stared, mouth open. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a medium than a medium he is. Hobbits have long had Death Speakers and those who see into the other worlds, and are far kinder to them than dwarrows besides. Those lingering in the mountain may not take kindly to being intruded upon but very few are able to turn away a hobbit; it’s just something in their nature. That will be a distinct advantage.”

Bilbo looked horrified.

“You asked me to find the last member of this company, Thorin, and I have chosen Mister Baggins.” Gandalf said, reclaiming his seat and with it the room lightened. “There is a great deal more to him than his appearances suggest and he’s more to offer than any of you know. Including himself.”

Thorin leaned back in his seat, gaze dark and thoughtful. It seemed to Fili that everyone else in the room was holding their breaths and waiting.

“He used to be able to hear.” Belladonna said softly; a warm feeling, an echo of touch, ruffled Fili’s hair. It was strange, all the spirits he’d encountered had left him chilled but this one… “He was amazing. He didn’t just hear death, my Bilbo, but anything that had once had or still had life in it; a Life Speaker. Oh, how the plants would grow for him; I had the best garden for fifteen years running and barely lifted a finger.”

She chuckled sadly. “But when his father and I died he closed his heart and he has not heard a thing since. Now he sits here, perfectly respectable, well regarded, and wasting away.” Another warm brush, not there but there all the same. “I would tell him to go, if he could hear me and I could trust you all to bring him back to me.”

He looked at her quickly, found her looking at her son with the kind of weary sadness he’d seen his mother look upon Kili with. He hated that look so, would have given nearly anything to banish it from his mother and, now, to see Belladonna without it as well. She was much more lovely when she was laughing at her son’s expense.

“If he goes.” Fili said softly. _'I will see him return._ ', he didn't say, but meant with all his heart. If it would make her smile like he'd been unable to do for his mother he would have promised much. And what was one small hobbit to look after? Surely he couldn't be any more trouble that Kili. Belladonna nodded, smiling fleetingly.

“It hardly matters,” Balin spoke into the silence when it became clear Thorin would not speak. “The way is barred. Smaug had it sealed and the time and work it would take to unseal it would be too great for it to be done in secret.”

“Ah.” Gandalf said and reached for something under the table. He emerged a moment later with what looked like a key. Strangely shaped, highly stylized, the handle having runes shaped into it, but a key nonetheless. A moment later a folded paper joined it, yellowing around the edges and very wrinkled. They were passed to Thorin who took them almost reverently.

“How did you come to have these?”

“Your father passed them to me long ago, so that I might pass them to you. With them he hoped you might reclaim the mountain.”

A murmur went through the company, swallowing up Fili’s surprised gasp in the noise. Thrain? Thrain had given this strange man a way into the mountain, a piece of their history? Thrain who had simply vanished one day, abandoning his children and people without a word?

“You must trust me on this.” Gandalf said.

“Very well. We will do it your way.” Thorin’s fingers closed tightly around the key. “Balin, give Mister Baggins a contract.”

Mister Baggins looked ready to faint as Balin whipped out the contract in question (Fili himself had been given one by Kili the day before and signed without bothering to read it) and forced into his hands.

And then he did in fact faint dead away when he got to the section on ‘possession, dimensional translocation, and other unfortunate manners of death’, though Bofur detailing the time he’d seen an elf woman dragged along and then disemboweled by unseen hands might have had something to do with it.

“Oh dear.” Belladonna said as she scurried over to stand above her son, image flickering in her distress. Then she looked up at Fili and shrugged. “He had always been a bit...delicate. Takes after his father in that, I’m afraid.”

\---

“He will come.” Belladonna told him later than night, when all had gone to sleep. She crouched next to the bed he’d been given for the night, eyes both warm and devastated. “The song your leader sang, with all of you? He heard it and he will come.”

Fili blinked sleepily. “It is quite the song, isn’t it?” Her tinkling laughter followed him back into sleep. Just before it fully claimed him he felt the warm echo one last time, across his forehead.  

"You are too good a boy to be so sad. Just like my Bilbo." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue taken and adapted from 'The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey'.
> 
> Next chapter: inspired by Stories: The Company leaves Hobbiton, with one extra dwarf and a hobbit in among them. The first night sees them camping out and settling in with each other as much can be expected. Everything seems to be going well until Bilbo, trying to better understand his companions, asks what Fili can 'do'. Fili gets it into his head to tell the truth and goes too far.


	5. Time After Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company gains its last two members and leaves Hobbiton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I low key envision a VW bus as the vehicle in question.
> 
> Sometimes you picture me--  
> I'm walking too far ahead  
> You're calling to me, I can't hear  
> What you've said--  
> Then you say--go slow--  
> I fall behind--  
> The second hand unwinds  
> If you're lost you can look--and you will find me  
> Time after time  
> If you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting  
> Time after time  
> After my picture fades and darkness has  
> Turned to gray  
> Watching through windows--you're wondering  
> If I'm OK  
> Secrets stolen from deep inside  
> The drum beats out of time--
> 
> ~Iron & Wine, Time after Time (Cover)

 

Fili was the last to leave Bag End, claiming he wanted to do one last walk through to make sure nothing had been left behind aside from the hobbit’s contract, should he accept it. He did do that, quietly so as not to bother Bilbo, but in reality he was wanted a chance to speak to Belladonna. She appeared almost as soon as Kili stepped out of the door to begin the trek back to the Green Dragon. Fili watched him from the window, oddly warmed as he watched early morning sun catching his brother’s loose hair and projecting a halo around him. 

“My Bungo used to look at me like that, as if I were the only thing in the world he could see. Ran into a few trees because of it.” She said, a wistful note to her voice. “I considered myself a very lucky hobbit indeed to be looked at so.” 

He didn’t jump or shout but it was a very near thing and there was nothing to do about the blush he could feel creeping up his neck. Belladonna smiled at him beatifically then, in the face of his scowl, laughed quietly. 

“He’s my brother!” The words burst out before he could stop them and then he rocked back, horrified with himself. Had he really-why had he said that? True, she couldn’t tell anyone but still...he’d never admitted it out loud before. Gimli knew so Fili had never had to said the words and Frerin had guessed at it years ago. 

She eyed him silently for a moment then nodded. “Come, Master Fili, I would ask one last favor. Grab Bilbo’s contract if you would?” 

He hesitated, half wanting her to say something more and yet appreciating the change in subject for what it was. He did as asked after taking a calming breath and, when he returned to the hallway, found the hobbitess standing next to a wooden chest. It was expertly crafted from what he could see, light colored wood with flowers and leaves etched around the lid, a layer of gloss to it, and all the signs of being well cared for. Not a hint of dust touched it’s surface, no scratches, no nicks. 

“Place the contract right on top please? Thank you.” She smiled at him fondly. “There. It’s my old glory box, you see, with some of my things from my own traveling days. Full of practical things he may forget about in his haste, a few journals I kept, scrolls on rituals. He’ll need those. I never did train him as I should have. I thought I’d have more time.” 

Her eyes turned sad. “But then don’t we all.”  

Fili touched the cool wood, tracing the creeping vines running along the bottom edge. “You think he’ll be able to see again? Why not come then, teach him yourself?” 

“My place is here.” Her fingers moved through the box, becoming so much mist instead of connecting. “I am as bound to Bag End in my heart as I was the day I saw it for the first time, and here I shall stay until it is time to move on.” 

“My uncle-” 

“Is bound by blood.” Belladonna said; she sounded a bit like the teachers he’d had growing up, patient but stressing the point, trying to make sure he heard and understood. “That’s very much like a dwarf I’d think, to be tethered by family and blood connections, and very much like a hobbit to form a connection to home and hearth and gardens.” 

He could not speak to the truth of hobbits but yes, that did very much sound like dwarrows. Homes, he understood, came and went. They’d been chased from more than one, a people always wandering and pushed out by the other races, but family? Family was everything. It anchored them in life so why not death as well? 

“You’re sure he’ll come?” He asked before stepping out of the door. Belladonna stood back, skirting the edge of the sunlight as it played over the floor, and nodded. 

“He will. Wait for him.” 

\---

He took his time getting back to the inn, thinking to stall a little on the hobbit’s behalf but it turned out to be unneeded because chaos was unfolding when he arrived. The assembled company was out behind the inn in the lot, standing amongst a small hill of bags and what looked like video equipment, talking heatedly and all at once save Kili, Thorin, and Gandalf. 

Gandalf was off to the side, smoking and watching them with no small amount of humor on his face. He nodded in greeting to Fili. Thorin was with the group but wasn’t arguing amongst them but instead watching them with dark eyes; if any of the other’s saw that for the warning that it was it didn’t show

Kili was leaning against his car, watching them all with a decidedly amused tilt to his lips. Fili sidled into place next to him and accepted a cup of coffee when it was passed over. It was half-full at best and lukewarm but he drank it down without complaint, passing the last swallow or two back to his brother. One of them shifted in the process or maybe it was both of them, Fili wasn’t sure; all he did know was that after Kili straightened up from swapping the empty cup for another resting on the pavement they were close enough that their shoulders and thighs were touching. 

There was none of the frantic stomach twisting and heart thumping that seemed to follow contact these days. Just a lazy spreading warmth in his stomach, heat against his shoulder and leg, and the barely there brush of Kili’s hair against his face. 

“So.” Fili said.

“We may have a problem.” Kili admitted. “We were supposed to have two vans, for us plus all the gear, and the old guys have their bikes, and I was leaving my car here in storage. Gloin figured that was the best compromise of ‘money vs space vs not killing each other two days in’.” 

Fili snorted. That sounded like Gloin, and no doubt an accurate assessment. He looked around the lot, noting the issue right away. There was one van, an older thing with some rust along the top and inside the wheel wells, and the very back already seemed to be crammed full of stuff. There were four bikes, huddled together close to the side of the inn, and Kili’s car beneath their backs. 

Fili looked back at the others, zeroing in on his uncle who seemed to be very swiftly headed towards a show of temper. Still no one else seemed aware of the black cloud gathering on Thorin’s face. “What happened?” 

“Second van fell through. Gloin was supposed to get us a deal for it.” Kili shrugged. “No one noticed because they’re all sure someone else was supposed to drive it out.” 

“Ah.” He said. “Are you going to tell them we can fit us plus two or three others in your car?” 

By his count 4 on bikes, 4 in the car, left 5 dwarrows plus Gandalf in the van. A tight fit, especially for the man, but far from impossible. That did leave the gear but with a little creative packing, and maybe ditching a few non-essentials...

“Nope.” Kili smiled against the rim of the coffee cup. 

They watched the proceedings a while longer. Nori separated from the group after Dwalin took an irritated swipe at him (And got a growl and dark look from Thorin for it) and headed towards them. He was smiling toothily as he forced his way between them, gamely ignoring Fili’s grumbling and Kili’s eye roll. 

“So, little princelings,” Kili rolled his eyes even harder. Fili refused to react, knowing it would only egg Nori on. “I’m taking bets on the Hobbit. Do you think he’ll show, yes or no? The house, that is me of course, says not a chance.” 

Kili’s mouth turned down slightly at the corners but Fili spoke first, already reaching for his wallet. “I say he does.”

Nori smiled like one who was sure he’d finally found a sucker to take him up on something. Even better when he got Fili to double down on his bet, whispering loudly to Kili that so far only Gandalf and Oin had wagering in the hobbit’s favor. That seemed to spur something in Kili who, after regarding Fili with a curious look, put his money on Bilbo as well. 

“That’s enough!” Thorin’s shout reverberated over the small lot. He was no Gandalf, the world didn’t darken and the air didn’t change, but he didn’t need to be. There had always been something about Thorin, something ‘more’ and larger than life, something commanding, that made people obey him and this time was no exception. Silence reigned. “I will not have us fighting like dwarflings or...men! Before we’ve even begun. How do you plan to take back Erebor if we can’t get out of the parking lot?”

More than a few of the company looked shamefaced. Thorin let the moment stretch, glowering at each in turn (and sparing Kili and Fili exasperated looks) before beginning to bark orders. 

“Gloin, you and Balin look over what we have, see rearrange the van. Use Kili’s trunk for extra space if needed, riders will keep hold of their own bags. If it doesn’t fit and isn’t a necessity get rid of it. Bofur, make sure the video equipment is packed properly.” Thorin paused, looking between the van and the car. “Some of you will ride with Kili. Ori and-”

“I want shotgun.” 

Fili closed his eyes. “Oh no.”

“Gimli!” Kili sounded delighted.  

“Gimli?” Gloin’s shocked cry was accompanied by some confused murmurs. “What are ye doing here?” 

“You told your son about this?” Thorin’s question overlapped with Gimli’s mild “Babysitting.” and was answered with an offended scoff. 

“I did not!” A moment of silence and Fili could perfectly envision his uncle’s expression, dark and unimpressed. “Don’t you give me that look Thorin Oakenshield. You know as well as I do Gimli has been showing up where he pleases, doing as he pleases, saying things he ought not know anything about since his sixth decade. Should have known something was happening when he didn’t mention anything about this.” The last part was muttered under Gloin’s breath, an air of resignation to it. “No point in arguing either, he’ll just be where we stop next, probably beat us there.” 

“Aye.” Gimli said and there was no doubt in Fili’s mind he was smirking. “That I will.” 

Thorin made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “We will discuss this. Dwalin, help Balin. Get all of this together, now.” 

When Fili dared to open his eyes it was to find Gloin and Thorin engaged in a tense looking conversation overseen by an occasionally nodding Gandalf. Gimli hovered nearby, looking entirely disinterested in how it would turn out. It was only when he caught Fili’s eye that emotion found his face. 

And that emotion was anger. Bright, burning, obvious anger directed right at Fili. Gimli stepped away from his father and Thorin and began to stalk towards them. 

There were many things Fili found to be unfair in life, like Kili having grown taller than him when everything was said and done. Few things matched the injustice of having to look up to speak to his younger brother. 

But Gimli, small Gimli who’d once hung on his every word and treated him as if he’d hung the stars in the sky, ending up taller than him (though shorter than Kili at least) and just as broad *plus* starting to grow into what was sure to be a beard that rivaled Gloin’s one day? That was up there on the ‘just unfair’ scale. Gimli had ended up disgustingly intimidating when he was of the mind to be and right now, family beads glinting in the sun, hair drawn back into a low tail to show the metal rings curving along his ears and through his brow and the blue ink flowing from brow to the corner of one eyes, he looked like Death. 

Fili turned to his brother and spoke, voice low and urgent. 

“Kili, brother, I want you to know that...that I’m leaving everything in my apartment to you. And my locker at the garage, all of that too.” 

Kili tilted his head to the side. “What are you-”

“But there’s a box under my bed. Small thing, wooden, you made it for me for my thirtieth? Take it and throw it away, never open it, never let anyone see inside of it. Entomb it with me if you must.” There were, Fili was sure, some things a dwarf was meant to take to his grave and the contents of the box (and the box itself, honestly) were among those things. “Swear it to me.” 

Kili blinked at him. “I don’t-” 

“Fili.” A heavy hand grasped him by the shoulder. Fili closed his eyes again, briefly. Who had he pissed off in a former life to have it all end like this? “We need to talk.” 

Kili’s eyes skipped over him to focus on Gimli then jumped back to Fili. “What did you do?” 

“Why do you assume I did something?”

\--

Kili just stared at his brother flatly. Fili scoffed, opened his mouth to say something and yelped instead. “Ouch, Gim, not my hair! I’m coming, Durin’s balls, don’t yank so hard!”  

Kili watched his cousin lead his brother around the corner of the inn and out of sight then, slowly, took another long drink from his chilled coffee. This was shaping up to be more interesting a trip than he’d thought already. 

“Want to put money on whether or not wee Gimli-” Kili snorted and Nori’s grin grew. “Leaves any hair on your brother’s head?” 

“I think I’ve taken enough stupid bets for the day.” He wouldn’t have done so but Fili had seemed to confident in the hobbit showing up and at the core of all things, under all the hurt and heart twisting distance, he trusted Fili completely, even with his wallet. 

After that things became a flurry of rearranging and deciding who would go where. Thorin seemed to have accepted Gimli’s presence, or at least was determined to ignore the matter completely, and other than the occasional yelp from the other side of the building everything seemed to be going just fine. 

Fili eventually slunk back looking none the worse for wear physically but very much like he’d just been giving the tongue lashing of his life. Gimli followed, whistling cheerfully and was all too happy to slide into the backseat with Ori and drop his bag onto the floor with a metallic clang. 

“Is that an axe in your bag?” Ori asked. 

“Aye.” 

“...why?” 

“Never know when you might need it.” Gimli said easily, not so much as a flicker in his expression to show he might think it was strange to carry what looked like, when Kili glanced back to take a quick look, a battle axe around. “Especially useful for chasing off Fili’s dates. He attracts the beastly sort.” 

Fili, settled in the front seat next to Kili, sank down low and scowled. Kili frowned as well. He’d never thought much about his brother dating out there in Bree though, of course, it made sense that he would. Fili had always been well liked by others and Kili had noticed many people watching as his brother grew into himself, though Fili himself had never seemed to notice. He’d always been much too busy looking after Kili, trying to shield him from harsh words and looks, from whispers, to care about his own life. 

Right up until he’d run away from home, and Kili, and stayed away.

Now that he was away, with his own life, why wouldn’t his eyes open to those who saw him for the attractive dwarf he’d become? And he was smart as well, kind to a fault under all that strutting and swagger, never put himself first, hardworking...yes, Kili’s brother had a lot of good traits. 

He was also arrogant, sharp tongued, and a bit of an asshole but Kili had never minded that so much. What were a few shadows on the surface of the sun, really? Fili would make someone very happy one day. Mahal knew he’d been the only thing that could make Kili happy for a very long time. 

Thorin rolled up to his window, bike purring as it idled next to him. Kili leaned out to squint up at his uncle, waiting to hear what he was going to say. 

“We’re heading past Bree tonight, to the second exit after it. If you fall behind along the way call, but we’ll be stopping around midday, at a rest stop. Try to-”

“Wait!” An unexpected voice shouted. Thorin’s head whipped around and Kili craned further out of the window, eyes widening as he saw a hobbit he had all but given up on (along with his money) came careening around the corner of the inn. There was a large pack on his back and what could only be the contract clutched in his hand. “I’m here! I’ve signed it.” 

Bilbo came to a halt next to Balin who took the contract and quickly sighted through the pages before nodding his approval. “Seems to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company. Now. Where are we to put you?” 

Bilbo straightened up from where he’d bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, then looked around at all of them before settling on the van with a considering look. Nori was driving, Dori in the passenger seat, the Ur’s and Oin piled into the second seat and Gandalf somehow folded up on the third seat with a wealth of camping equipment.

Bilbo let out his breath in a gusty sigh. “Um. Well. This van looks-”

“He’ll ride with me.” Thorin declared. Bilbo squawked. “Get moving, we’ll catch up. Kili, you have your helmet?” 

It took Kili less than a minute to get out of the car and fish his old helmet, now slightly too small even if he were inclined to ride behind his uncle as he had in his youth, from the trunk and toss it to a rapidly paling Bilbo. He climbed back into the car and, waving at Thorin, maneuvered to follow the van out of the lot and out onto the road. The last thing Kili saw in his rearview before the lot was behind them was Bilbo frantically shaking his head and Thorin staring down at the hobbit, face stony. 

And then, heart jumping into his throat and near choking him with his excitement, they were off.

The day passed much as the one before it had, but with Ori and Gimli helping to drive and keep the car from being filled with the silences that often fell between himself and Fili. It was strange, so strange, that he and his brother would need others to help smooth out the gaps between them when once there had been no space there at all. Fili&Kili. Kili&Fili. All their lives they'd been parts of a whole, rarely seen apart, able to know what the other was thinking to such a degree as they finished each other's sentences. Any quiet between them then had been because they didn't need words. 

Things were different now. Kili still knew Fili like he knew his own hand, saw the flattened out mouth when Ori thanked them over and over for not making him ride with his brothers for the repressed laughter it was, knew the twitch of his eye when Gimli grunted something about 'screenshots' and 'fifty text messages' was panic, that the eye roll when Kili shoved an entire doughnut into his mouth was fond amusement. But, just as he knew those things, he didn't know what the heavy lidded way Fili watched him from the backseat when he and Ori switched spots was about. He didn't understand the sharp looks he and Gimli shared when Gimli inclined his head towards Kili or the quiet sigh that came before his brother turned his attention the rolling hills, endless trees, and small streams that made up the scenery around them. 

How had he and his brother grown so far apart that what had once been a book he knew backwards and forwards had gained chapters he didn't recognize? 

They halted for the night as the sun was going down. They'd gone past Bree, a mutual decision that an entire group of rough looking dwarrows and a hobbit who knew nothing of the world were best not stopping in the city for the night. Bree was fine for a singular dwarf, perhaps a family, as Fili would attest to but in large numbers they made men as nervous as they ever had. Thorin, Dwalin, and Gloin knew the area well, had traveled long and often for work over the years, and lead them off the highway to a gravel road that took them to a campsite of sorts. Tall rocks on one side, a river near by, soft enough grass beaten down by feet over the years, and a firepit. 

Mister Baggins slid off of Thorin's bike, took a step, groaned, and all but fell over. Gandalf clucked as he went to right the hobbit and lead him over to some rocks to perch on. Kili chuckled along with the rest of the company but internally he felt for the hobbit. He remembered the first time he'd made a longer journey with Thorin, Fili riding with Dwalin, and how he'd had to sleep on his stomach and could barely walk for a time after. And that was as a dwarf, Bilbo was surely of a more delicate nature than Kili had been even at the tender age of thirty. 

There was food, with Fili admitting that Bombur could indeed work miracles with a fire and camp stove, and then they all settled down to sleep without much talking. Kili watched the others split into groups, the Urs, the Ris, Balin and Dwalin with Thorin, Gloin and Oin laying claim to a protesting Gimli, Bilbo near Gandalf, and sighed. They were all here, together, but not quite 'together'. But hopefully time would change that. He had a feeling they would need to be a real group, to be able to to trust each other, before this was through and the soft whispers on the wind told him the same. 

He and Fili stayed up on Thorin's orders, a just in case watch. Kili didn't know what they were watching in case of but there they were, silent and wrapped up in spare blankets, staring at their sleeping bags longingly. Snoring filled the small clearing, mixed with the chirping of bugs, hoots of owls, and the low singing of the shadows that lurked on the edge of his vision to form a symphony of sorts. 

Bilbo sat up, huffing out an annoyed sigh. He looked around then, focusing on them, and shuffled over to sit next to the fire, wincing only slightly. Kili was suitably impressed. 

"Mister Baggins." Fili greeted. 

"Oh, no, Bilbo is fine." The hobbit waved a hand dismissively. "Please." 

Fili smiled a little, a faraway look creeping into his eyes. "Bilbo it is then. Did you need something?" 

Bilbo didn't answer right away, eyes darting around as if to be sure everyone was actually sleeping, then nodded. "Yes, actually. I wanted to ask about...the rest of the company? That is I recall Ori saying his brothers would be of use with the spirits and that you, Kili, might 'see' and I thought, perhaps, I may. Ask about that? If you don't mind and it's not too personal?" 

Kili shrugged. "Ask away. We have nothing to hide." 

Fili's laugh was oddly high pitched.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it’s time to just come clean about this story and admit that I have lost all semblance of control here. I had an idea, a well planned plot, that would be wrapped up in 7-8 chapters and leave room open for future ghosty/cryptid hunting/fighting adventures. And romance and angst and smut. I...I had a plan. I still have a plan but it is vastly different, involves a horror show in a farmhouse, and I’ll be lucky if I’m past the ‘trolls’ by chapter 9 let alone finishing things up in Erebor. 
> 
> I have no idea what happened.


	6. Time After Time, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Stories: The Company is camped out and it seems like a good time for explanations around the fire. Fili becomes a bit too honest.

 

Kili eyed his brother, concerned about how tense he looked all of a sudden but a tight head shake told him that whatever the issue might have been Fili wasn’t interested in talking about it now. Bilbo was watching them with unveiled curiosity but other than an uneasy smile, was content to let it go in favor of satisfying his questions. 

“Okay Bilbo, what did you want to know?” Kili was almost positive the dwarrow tendency towards never letting outsiders in on their secrets didn’t apply to things like this, since most dwarrow didn’t believe in ghosts. The dead went to the Halls of Waiting and thus couldn’t be spirits left behind, to imply otherwise was blasphemous. Creatures other than what were known to have been made by Vala didn’t exist, and certainly not an entire world of them beneath their world, and saying otherwise challenged everything.

That probably placed all matters related to such things firmly in the ‘fine to talk about with hobbits’ territory. 

The hobbit pursed his lips thoughtfully, looking around the camp again before dropping his voice further. “I suppose I’m just wondering about what you can do? Are you Death Speakers? Do you even call it that?” 

“I don’t see the dead. Or I haven’t before, at least. I don’t think.” Kili added, frowning slightly. “I see...something else. A different world, I think, but it’s...it’s here. With our world, but no one else can see it.” 

He closed his eyes and breathed out, trying to find the right words. He’d never lacked for words in his life, more likely to be told to be silent than anything else, but it had been years since he’d tried to put what he saw into words. Not since his mother had stopped sending him to doctors in an attempt to fix him and accepted that nothing was going to be changing anytime soon, no matter how much she wanted it to. Not that he hadn’t tried to not see what he saw, or thought about pretending that he didn’t especially when Fili left, but in the end his mother hadn’t raised a liar. 

A mad dwarf who saw monsters and strange creatures around every corner, yes, but not a liar. Not even at the expense of an easier life. 

He opened his eyes again, eyes trailing over to the forest around the clearing they were in. He saw lights, small silvery flickering ones, dancing between the trees. They twisted and looped around, flew up then dove back down, spun in maddening circles before vanishing back behind the trees. If he strained his ears he could hear them singing, a tempting song calling to him to join them. 

_ Find us, dance with us, stay until the sun comes up, stay stay stay forever.  _

“It’s...sometimes I’ll be in the town, where men live? And if I look a certain way I’ll see that someone has horns or a tail. Or I’ll go to the river and see woman with river grass hair and stone skin floating there. Or I’ll hear things, on the wind or calling from the dark.” He reached up on reflex, went to tuck his hair behind his ear but came up empty. “Some things talk to me. Some don’t.” 

Sometimes great pools of shadow opened up and clawed hands reach out. Sometimes he heard bells in beams of light, but those were things he’d never told anyone but Fili and he didn’t see any reason to change now. 

Fili shifted next to him; his eyes were wide and reflecting the firelight, giving him an almost wild look. Kili was sure he was uncomfortable with the topic; the last thing Fili had said to him before packing up and running off to Bree was that he didn’t want to hear another word about what Kili could see. It had been years and they’d seen each other on holidays and when Kili visited, talked on and off, and never had he brought up his sight. 

Part of him had hoped keeping Fili separate from all of that would bring his brother back and repair things between them. It hadn’t, not even close, though he liked to think they were coming around to a good point these days. 

And now they were going to Erebor for a something that was going to be all about all the things Fili had said he didn’t want to hear about again. Kili knew he should have left his brother out of things, not asked him to come at all, but...he was selfish. More than proving things to anyone else in the world he wanted to prove to Fili that he could see these things, that this other world threaded through their own was a real thing. He wanted his brother to know all those years spent defending him and fighting on his behalf hadn’t been wasted. 

He wanted Fili to believe in him again. 

He wanted his brother back and if he could get Erebor back for his uncle Thorin at the same time then all the better. He didn’t know what had made his uncle change his mind and, in fact, ask him for help but he was grateful for it. He’d long since accepted he would always been on the outskirts of his own family, tolerated and loved but not belonging among them. 

Not when they all thought he was crazy anyway. But he was going to change that.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any use in Erebor but Ori thinks I might.” Ori had a pretty in depth theory involving a build up of psychic energy caused by all the deaths then locked up tight with no outlet. Ori thought all that residual energy might be strong enough that Kili would be able to tap into it. 

Ori had a lot of theories about a lot of things. 

“I see.” Bilbo said. “We don’t have anyone who can do that in the Shire.” 

Kili smiled bitterly. “I get that a lot.” 

He had reached out to others, found some who claimed various abilities, even gone to meet a few, but none like him. He was an oddity even among other freaks, most of who he was pretty sure were not what they claimed to be. When he’d started looking for someone else to go to Erebor to help them, backup in case the hobbit they were to meet couldn’t do the job (Lucky paranoia on his part since Bilbo insisted he wasn’t a Death Speaker at all) he had been sure he’d spend weeks, if not months, sifting through fakes to perhaps find a genuine person. 

When Ori had come to him he’d been startled to say the least of the matter, confused but pleased once he got past that. He and Ori had been friends most of their lives, the younger dwarf had seen what Kili went through, and he knew that if anyone was trustworthy it was Ori. If Ori said he and his brother’s could help then Kili believed him.

“And Ori, Nori, and Dori?” Bilbo asked, unknowingly following the direction of Kili’s thoughts. 

“We’re psychic, is what we say.” Ori’s voice drifted over to them from where he and brothers were bedded down; Kili could see the middle lump had its head propped up, copper color hair catching the firelight. A few seconds later he was carefully creeping over to them and, with a half smile, plopped down next to Bilbo, notebook in hand. “Sorry to listen but we don’t know much about hobbits so...”

“So not that sorry?” Fili guessed. Ori shrugged sheepishly. 

Bilbo looked delighted. “I’m glad you were listening. Psychic you said?”

Kili smirked down at him. “You’re going to get in trouble if Dori sees you up past your bedtime.” 

Ori did an amazing job of pretending he hadn’t heard Kili, full focus on Bilbo. “Not that we’ve ever said it to anyone before. Not until I told Kili, but it seems like as good a word as any. I’ve read up a lot about extrasensory perception, when I have time for it.” 

“Of course you have.” Fili said. Ori paused, gaze snapping up to stare at Fili searchingly but after a long second, and apparently finding whatever he was looking for in Fili’s face, he laughed and nodded. 

“I’m a historian.” He explained to Bilbo who perked up a little in interest. “Or I will be, soon enough. So I spend a lot of time with books, reading things, transcribing them, looking after the books that were brought from Erebor. And recording new things, of course. That’s part of what I’ll be doing; Kili wants to video everything but he wants it in print too, with as many points of view as I can get.” 

Kili wanted whatever happened, whatever they might see, to be beyond reproach or question. That meant, to him, coming at it from all angles. Video, sound, everyone’s thoughts along the way, photos, whatever it took. 

“I’m not much use aside from that, to be honest. I touch things and can see where they’ve been, when it works.” Ori held up his gloved hands and flexed his fingers. Ori always wore gloves, knitted by Dori or himself. Kili had always thought he just had cold fingers. 

As long as they’d known each other Ori had never said a word about any ability. In fact Kili had long suspected that Ori dropping out of their lessons to go to work had been because of Dori not wanting his younger brother to spend so much time with them. That their friendship had waned, Ori kept very busy with his apprenticeship and extra work as Balin’s assistant, had just backed that belief up.

It had happened before.

But hearing Ori quietly explain that he and his brothers were ‘different’ as well had put everything into perspective. He’d never said the words but Kili could imagine that Dori hadn’t wanted distance between him and Ori because he thought Kili was ‘mad’, but because he was worried about attention on Ori. If people treated Kili like some kind of plague carrier then they would have done worse to Ori and his family. With that in mind Kili had been able to let go of the sting of betrayal quickly.

And, as he’d told Fili, it wasn’t as if he’d had other options. It did worry him that Ori insisted Nori was the strongest of the three of them, and the only one who’d ever seen a spirit. Not because he didn’t believe Ori but because Nori was known to be flighty, at best, and a self serving ass who would vanish the minute things got risky at worst. He was trying not to dwell on that part, and might have failed to mention that small detail to Thorin. 

Getting him to agree to take Nori along at all had been an trial, if he knew they might actually have to rely on him it would have been an argument. Kili was just starting to get used to not fighting with his uncle and wasn’t eager to get back to it if he could help it. 

“People too, but not as much. I don’t like doing that.” Ori folded his hands back into his lap. “Almost never works.”  

_ “Nori used to take me down into the men’s town to read his marks.” Ori had told him, blushing with shame. “Dori put a stop to that when he found out. Put Nori out the house for a whole year.”  _

“Dori can move things, a bit, without touching them. It works best when he’s mad.” Ori glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. “And he always seems able to find me no matter where I am, but he says that’s just ‘brotherly intuition’.” 

Fili hummed. “He did always seem to pop up just when we were about to get into trouble.” 

Kili nodded his agreement. Dori had always had a way of showing up to drag Ori away before they could get too far into things they weren’t supposed to be doing. Ori had managed to avoid many a lecture because of it.

Ori made a face, saying exactly how he felt about Dori’s mother hen ways without a word, then gestured towards where Nori was lying. “And Nori. He can do a few different things and he’s seen a spirit or two. Dori and I never have.” 

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully, seeming to mull something over before speaking his mind. “My mother and her sister, Mirabella, were Death Speakers and their grandmother, on the Took side of course, before them, and more Tooks besides. Is it a family trait for you as well?” 

“If it were it would come from our mother.” Ori said slowly, drawing each word out, eyes flicking from side to side. “But I couldn’t say.” 

Duri had passed on when Ori was still in his first decade. She’d been unmarried her whole life and no one had every claimed Ori as kin so he had passed into Dori’s care. Nori had been in Dori’s care as well, for reasons Kili wasn’t privy to.

They were quiet for a beat; Kili felt the world was holding its breath. 

“What about you Fili?” Bilbo asked. Kili sucked in a breath through his teeth; he could tell Bilbo was trying to shift the focus as best he could but that was probably the worst place to shift it to.

“Dead things, mostly.” Fili deadpanned. “Is what I see. Lots of dead things.” 

Kili stared at his brother. What the fuck? Ori looked equally as taken aback, head tilting to the side as his brows furrowed. 

Bilbo’s eyes lit up. “So you’re a Death Speaker?” 

“I don’t do much speaking to them.” Fili said, voice mild. “That seems like it might be crucial.” 

“I suppose. It’s more of a title, really.” Bilbo sat up a little straighter. “My mother, before she passed, would travel all over the Shire to attend funerals and cleanse homes, to make sure that no one’s spirit was lingering behind. And sometimes she’d talk to, erhm, bodies, for Men. They would call and she’d go and...” Bilbo grimaced slightly. “Mirabella doesn’t do such things, but my mother’s journals say if she got to someone while they were still ‘fresh’ she could speak to what was left of them. Even after the spirit had passed on, or some such. It seems very morbid to me, holding a conversation with a dead person like you would over tea, asking them how they ended up that way.” 

“Oh! The brains!” Ori’s notebook was open and his pen was scratching over the pages. “I read something about that, an idea some man had, that even after the soul departs the brain may remember some things for a time after. ...of course that Man was completely out of his head and went around robbing graves and stitching body parts together.” 

He looked up from his writing, expression deadly serious. “But other than that, and some sex habits that I could have done without reading about, he was brilliant. Until the myiasis. Maggots ate his brain.” 

Bilbo was looking more and more green the more Ori talked but managed to keep all but a slight tremble from his voice. “I’m...it may be something like that. Without the brain eating, I hope.”

Fili rolled his shoulders and tugged on one of the braids of his mustache. “I am fairly certain I am not a Death Speaker, all things considered. And I’ve never talked to any bodies or cleansed anything. I just see it. Echoes of people dying, angry ghosts tearing themselves apart chunk by chunk until they fade away.”

Fili looked tired and not tired like he had before they’d started talking, the sort of tired that came from needing to get a little sleep. No, he looked tired all the way through, hollow eyed and barely there, fingers twitching open and closed to grasp nothing at all, shoulders curling down, and Kili believed him. Believed that he could see what he was saying he could see. 

“I see Uncle Frerin-”

“You think that’s funny?” Thorin’s voice cracked like a whip and sent them all jumping in alarm. He was across the fire from them, had gotten to his feet without any of them realizing he was awake let alone watching them, and he looked furious. Others were stirring in their sleeping bags, pushing themselves up with sleepy grumbles. 

Fili blinked once, twice, looked away. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a joke.” 

Kili’s heart skipped a beat and air caught in his throat, refused to be moved. A joke?

Thorin’s lip curled. “I suggest, Master Hobbit, you keep your questions aimed at Kili if you want honest answers and Fili is you want poorly thought out jokes from someone too sheltered from the world.” 

Thorin strode away from them, to the edge of the clearing, and looked out into the darkness. Fili leaned back, away from the fire, and shadow fell over his face. Kili could almost see him pulling back into himself, locking himself away. 

Balin sighed. “Ah, don’t take it too personal laddie. Frerin is...a more sensitive topic than most. You have a brother, you understand.” 

Fili’s was silent as he rose up and stalked off, passing into the trees and out of sight. Kili watched, any words he might say held back under the crushing weight of ‘ _ a joke _ ’. His throat and chest felt too tight, like something was squeezing them in a powerful grip, and his stomach was churning. He could barely breathe. 

“Who’s Frerin?” Bilbo asked, voice small. 

“Thorin’s younger brother.” Balin said. “He died in the mountain, just before everything passed into Smaug’s hands. There was a fire.” 

\---

“Your brother is tormenting you so now you’re tormenting mine?” Frerin asked hotly, gliding out of the darkness like he’d been there all along. Fili didn’t break his stride or speak, focused on getting further away from the light of the fire behind him.

Except: “Kili does not torment me.” 

Frerin didn’t acknowledge that he’s spoken and, much to Fili’s dismay, easily kept pace with him. Not having to dodge trees or underbrush worked in his favor. “You don’t understand what happened to me-”

“You died in the fire.” Fili snapped. “I know.” 

Everyone knew. Thror had realized, madness pulling back for a brief time, that he’d lost the mountain to Smaug. He’d called Smaug and all of the families that had shares of Erebor together, to the family home. Thorin had been somewhere else, with Balin and Dwalin. The manor burned, took the top two housing levels with it, no one knew why, and Thror and Frerin died. Smaug had run the rest of the dwarrow out.

He knew.

He hadn’t set out to answer the hobbit honestly but, in that moment, the words had just come bursting forth and it had felt good, freeing, to say them. It felt like something breaking on the inside, pain but the kind of pain that was welcome and built strength. He had thought, for one mad moment, that he could just lay it all out there and maybe the fallout wouldn’t be so bad. 

He hadn’t realized Thorin was awake. 

He cursed himself for telling the truth, for mentioning Frerin, for back peddling under Thorin's icy glare. He cursed himself for not having just told someone the truth years ago.

“Thorin lead people out of the mountain. Did you know that?” Frerin’s voice followed him doggedly, refused to let him escape. “He came back from the battlements when he saw the flames and ran in, fool that he is. Over and over and over, even when his hair and beard burned. He carried the wounded, carried bodies. But he couldn’t find me. That’s why he kept going back but every time he saw another dwarf, heard them cry out, he stopped to lead them to safety. Never even had a chance to find my body and see me properly put to rest. He blames himself for not looking harder, for not going past those who needed him and turning a blind eye. Apologizes every night, mourns me the same now as he did a over a hundred years ago.

“It was my own doing. There was so much smoke, and the screams, Mahal the screams. I'll never forget them. I was confused. Scared. And then I saw something, bright white and tall, cutting right through the smoke. So I followed. I thought it was a messenger from Mahal, or an ancestor, come to save me, but it wasn’t. It was a demon, pale skinned and ugly, leading me to my death. A lonely, miserable, coward's death, huddled in a corner crying like a babe until the smoke and heat choked me. And Thorin blames himself.” 

Fili wasn’t sure if this was a literal story or some kind of metaphor or just Frerin being a ghost who’d wandered the world too long and couldn’t separate death hallucinations from reality. 

He wasn’t sure it mattered.

“Don’t mention me again. I won’t pain my brother any more than I already do.” 

\---

It rained the next day, harder than Fili had ever seen it rain before. It matched his mood, and the storm brewing on Thorin's face, perfectly. There was no warm breakfast, just scrambling for vehicles and rain gear while cramming protein bars into their mouths. 

Thorin talked to Kili and ignored him. Fili remembered how he’d once been the favored nephew with all of Thorin's approval, hated himself for the thought, and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to block out the rest of the world. 

Gimli called him an idiot under his breath so only Fili could hear. 

When Dwalin, who’d gone on ahead, announced that the bridge over the river was swamped it was Thorin who lead them off the highway again, this time to a large house nestled back on what looked like an orchard and great expanses of farmland full to the brim with tall plants, currently bent under the heel of the pounding rain. There was a barn off to the side, painted red, doors open, and a carport to the side. The bikes rolled to stops under the carport covering and, before the van had come to a complete stop behind them, Gandalf was out and headed straight for Thorin. 

Fili decided immediately he didn’t like the look of any of it. 

Ori shivered. “This place feels strange.” 

“Yeah,” Gimli said as they watched Gandalf stalk off down the muddy road like it was a fine spring day and not the middle of a torrential downpour. “I think the old man has the right idea. We shouldn’t be here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Things rather suddenly become a horror movie. Something isn't right in the air and some of the company feel it more than others. Fili has a chronic headache and desperately wants a drink. Thorin is pissy. 
> 
> Drums. Drums. They can't get out.


	7. Into the Sea of Waking Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be The Hobbit without the trolls right? Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood and...uh. A chase scene? Day 7 of FiKi week, inspired by music. 
> 
> Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide  
> voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time  
> the night is my companion, and solitude my guide  
> would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?  
> and I would be the one  
> to hold you down  
> kiss you so hard  
> I'll take your breath away  
> and after, I'd wipe away the tears  
> just close your eyes dear  
> Through this world I've stumbled  
> so many times betrayed  
> trying to find an honest word to find  
> the truth enslaved  
> oh you speak to me in riddles  
> and you speak to me in rhymes  
> my body aches to breathe your breath  
> your words keep me alive  
> And I would be the one  
> to hold you down  
> kiss you so hard  
> I'll take your breath away  
> and after, I'd wipe away the tears  
> just close your eyes dear  
> Into this night I wander  
> it's morning that I dread  
> another day of knowing of  
> the path I fear to tread  
> oh into the sea of waking dreams  
> I follow without pride  
> nothing stands between us here  
> and I won't be denied  
> and I would be the one  
> to hold you down  
> kiss you so hard  
> I'll take your breath away  
> and after, I'd wipe away the tears  
> just close your eyes...
> 
> Sarah McLachlan~Possession

 

The mad dash from the car to the main house couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds but by the time Fili was on the covered porch his sweatshirt was soaked through with rain. A look to the side found most of the others looking the same, save the older dwarrows who’d been on their bikes in rain gear and were now dripping great puddles onto the worn white wood beneath their feet. Thorin, however, was the worst off, completely soaked from head to toe, the rain in his hair running down his face in rivulets.

Bilbo stood close to Thorin, wearing the dwarf’s rain jacket and reminding Fili of when he and Kili would stay the night with his uncle and raid his closet to play in his leathers. The hood was so large no amount of fussing could make it stay right so Bilbo could see, forcing the hobbit to hold it in place as he frowned up at Thorin’s back.

The outer doors of the house were open wide, letting Fili see inside to a moderately sized, windowless room full of pegs and hooks at various heights and long boxes that lined the walls along the ground that looked to be made from shoes to be places. Old worn rugs lined the floor, long faded from use. A chalkboard on one of the walls had writing on it in bright yellow chalk.

_“Welcome to the Farmhouse Bed and Breakfast. Comfortable rooms, breakfast and dinner provided, kitchen open!”_

All around the edges it looked like someone, a child if the unsteady lines and smiling faces inside the large flowers and sun in the corner were anything to go by, had drawn all sorts of things in multi-colored chalks. It was nice. Cheerful. On any other day he would have called it welcoming and been put at ease at the sight.

Fili could already feel a chill setting in to his skin in spite of the warmth of the day and yet, when Thorin motioned for them all to step inside after explaining he, Dwalin, and Gloin had stayed in this place before when they’d traveled in the area and to show proper respect to their hosts, he hesitated. He stopped just at the threshold, breath freezing in his lungs and throat. Ice flowed over his skin, prickled near painfully as the hair on his arms the back of his neck rose up; a too heavy weight settled hard in his stomach.

He wasn’t the only one. A look to one side found Ori had gone deathly pale, eyes perfectly round and huge in his narrow face. Nori was at his side, one hand on Ori’s shoulder holding what looked to be painfully tight, expression unreadable as he stared into the house. Gimli, just behind Fili, stopped in his tracks then took a step away, muttering something under his breath.

It was Bilbo’s reaction that got Thorin’s attention. One moment he was shuffling after the dwarf, saying something about a hot bath, and then next he was wrenching back hard, colliding hard with Fili’s chest, nearly toppling them both. Kili yelped, jumping just out of range of Fili’s flailing limbs and right into Bofur, and Gimli grunted as he threw his arms out to brace them.

It was easier to appreciate his cousin’s presence now that the throbbing of his scalp and shoulder, where Gimli had punched him so hard while growling ‘What part of say no did you not understand?’ it was no doubt bruised, were behind them.

Thorin turned slowly, eyebrow going up in question, as the others slowed in their haste to strip off their shoes and wet jackets. He managed to look fierce, and a touch judgemental, even when looking like a drowned cat. Fili was certain he looked ridiculous, braids sodden and coming loose, free hair curling and slapping over his face and neck, in comparison.

“Is there a problem?”

“No! I’m sorry, that was my fault.” Bilbo said as he righted himself with Fili’s help. “I was- I’m sorry, but does something about this place not feel odd to you?”

“Odd?” Thorin’s other eyebrow joined the first. “It looks and feels no different to me than the other times I’ve been here. You’ll have to be more plain.”

Bilbo’s nose scrunched up. “I don’t know. There’s just something odd. In the air I think? It is...heavy with-”

“Sadness.” Nori’s serious tone was enough to grant him everyone’s attention. His eyes were narrowed, suspicious. Dori stepped back out of the house to stand next to his brothers, concern etched onto his features. “And fear. Terror.”

Fili didn’t know if that was how he’d put it, Nori’s words a little too specific for the creeping ice flowing through his bones and blood, but he agreed with there being something not right about the house. It set his teeth on edge.

Thorin frowned slightly, giving Nori a quick once over, before focusing on Bilbo again. “Two nights ago you insisted there was nothing special about you at all and now you’re telling us the air feels ‘odd’? Which is it?”

Bilbo’s ears pinkened. He mumbled something, too low to be heard, but Fili could see from the way his shoulders curled inward and his eyes darted down that he’d be saying no more. Thorin had always had a skill, unintentional though it probably was, for making people doubt themselves with just a few words and it hadn’t lost any potency over the years. If anything it was stronger because Thorin’s eyes swept over all of them and Fili wondered if, maybe, he was exaggerating as well. He’d never felt anything without also seeing a spirit or echo to go with it, why would he now?

Maybe it was his own emotions, shame and regret settled heavy on his shoulders, playing tricks on him. Maybe the cold was just the rain seeping into his skin, turning him clammy and uncomfortable. Maybe it was the nature of their ‘quest’ making him imagine things.

“Where are the owners?” Kili asked. “They must have heard or seen us by now, even with the storm. Why haven’t they come out?”

Thorin’s expression flickered then smoothed out. He made a gesture and Gloin nodded before walking through the inner doors and deeper into the house. Gimli sighed before pushing past Fili, kicking off his boots quickly, and going after his father.

Thorin watched, lips quirking upwards, then motioned the rest of them to come inside. “They may be gone, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve arrived to find they’ve gone to into town or to see neighbors. If the doors are open we’re permitted to enter and find rooms of our own. It isn’t an issue.”

Dwalin grunted his agreement. “We once missed them completely. Stayed the night, left money, and were gone before they even got back. Got a ‘sorry we couldn't provide you brunch’ email after. It’s a man, his wife, and three children but they’re a good sort as far as men go. Entire first floor is equipped for dwarrow. Or hobbits. Kitchen is always stocked.”

Bombur made an approving noise. Bifur hands flashed quick shapes, too fast for Fili to get more than ‘show Bilbo’ from it, drawing grins from his family.

Those still on the porch stayed where they were for another moment, Fili among them. It was Bilbo who moved first, squaring his shoulders and stepping into the front room. Oin directed him to one of the rugs to clean his feet. Fili pushed down his reluctance, in no small part to keep anyone from noticing that he’d stopped for any reason other than Bilbo colliding with him, and stepped into the room.

The ice cracked and broke away instantly, taking with it the feeling of dread. It was as if it had never been at all.

A trick of the mind after all then.

He was peeling off his hopelessly wet hoodie and shirts when Gloin returned, a mess of keys in hand. “You were right Thorin, looks like they’re out. Everything else seems to be in order, no signs that anything might be wrong.” This was said with a glance towards Bilbo and Nori in turn; the hobbit flushed but Nori, standing in a corner and peering anxiously out at the rain, didn’t acknowledge it. “Looks like we’re the only ones here, all the dwarf keys were present. Six rooms, total. Might make the budget a little tight further on but I’ll work it out.”

Thorin nodded his approval and the keys began to go out. Dori took one and ushered his still pale brothers inside, a hand on Ori’s back comforting and the other tight on Nori’s arm. The next went to Bifur who signed his thanks as he and his cousins left. Dwalin took one and the last to be handed out was given to Thorin. Gloin kept the remaining one.

“Gimli already has the one for your room.” Gloin informed them. “Down the hall, turn left, it’s the last one. Figured the three of you lads would want to share.” Fili looked at his brother but, just as he had since they’d woken, Kili’s focus was so carefully not on him that Fili knew it was deliberate.

It was going to be a long night.

“Bilbo you can have your pick.” Gloin continued. “The lads have a pull out in their room, if I recall, as do the Ri’s. Thorin has-”

“I’ll stay with Fili and Kili.” Bilbo broke up, waving his hands. Then, quieter. “If they don’t mind."

Kili snorted then nodded, tossing an arm around the hobbit. “Come then Bilbo, let’s see what this place is all about. And find the baths.”

Fili followed, lips pressed into a thin line. The inn was what could only be called ‘cozy’ past the inner doors, the lights bright and fighting against the gray gloom of the outdoors. The hallway they stepped into branch into a large dining room on one side, a living room full of worn but comfortable looking furniture, all covered with quilts and more pillows than anyone could need, and a staircase leading up to another floor. Further down and Fili could see what must have been the kitchen but before that the hallway branched again, left and right.

Down the left hall and past 3 doors, two on one side and one of the other, and a collection of brightly painted floral scenes, they found a door already propped open. Gimli was inside, stripped down to nothing but his boxers and a towel around his shoulders, bent over to rummage through his pack.

There were two beds, at the right height for a dwarf (Fili had slept in beds made for Men a few times in his life and could honestly live without the hassle of trying to climb into one.), a couch situated under a large window and an arm chair, both covered with soft looking blankets, and a dresser with a TV placed on top. It was warm enough that the chill that had sept into Fili’s clammy skin was beginning to lift. The bumps that had risen on his arms faded as he rubbed his hands over them.

Bilbo sputtered and put a hand over his eyes while turning to face away from Gimli. Gimli looked up, regarded the hobbit mildly, then inclined his head towards a door. “Bathroom’s that way. Big tub and shower but looks like we’re sharing with Ori and his brothers. If you want in there first I’d hurry up.”

That was all Kili needed to hear. He was off and through the door before Fili could blink, leaving Bilbo looking startled at the loss of his companion, door shutting firmly behind him. Gimli chuckled then flashed Fili a toothy grin.

“I’ll take the couch. Bilbo can have one of the beds and, I’m sure, you and brother should have no trouble sharing the other.”

Fili only dimly heard Bilbo protesting that he had no issue taking the couch and surely Gimli would be more comfortable on the bed, too busy staring at the beds, horrified.

It was going to be a very long night.

"I need a drink." 

"I still have the screenshots of those text messages." Gimli informed him. "Do you think Kili would like to know the things his brother says when he's deep into his cups? Maybe that bit about his hair being like the night and-"

"Fine!" Fili shouted, cutting his cousin off. Bilbo jumped, turned slightly, saw Gimli again, and snapped back to staring at the wall. "What happened to make you so evil?" 

"There was that time you stole my hammer from my metal working kit." 

"We were fifteen! It was plastic!" And his hammer had gone missing from his play forge set. He'd needed Gimli's! 

"I've had a long time to think about how to get you back." 

A very very long night. 

\---

Fili used the bathroom last without complaint, but couldn’t deny that he was grateful when he was finally able to sink into the heat of the tub. It was just on the edge of too hot, making him hiss out between his teeth, and steam was thick in the air, fogging up the mirror and the glass of the shower. The tub was more than big enough for two men, let alone a single dwarf, and Fili was grateful for it when he dunked himself under the surface and let the water swallow him up. He shut his eyes, welcoming the darkness.

The headache he’d been fighting off more or less since arriving at Bag End had finally taken hold, settling in at about the moment Kili had come ambling out of the bathroom, shirtless, skin damp, and hair dripping. He had seen his brother in far less, had seen his bare chest just a few days ago when he’d gotten his tattoo. There was nothing new there and certainly no reason to go dry mouthed and thick tongued as he tried to pull his gaze from the dark hair spread over his chest and the metal piercing his nipples.

Or maybe the headache had won out when Kili had thrown on a shirt and left the room without even glancing towards him let alone, saying he was going to get Thorin to help him with his braids. Braids that Fili had yet to see in his hair, braids that Kili knew Fili could do just as well as their uncle (better, even, because Thorin was heavy handed and Kili had often left their uncle sore headed and whining, but Fili had done his braids a thousand times when they were young, knew just the right way to do it.)

Or, and this was very likely when he thought about it, the pain had taken root when Gimli had asked if it counted as a lover’s spat or a family squabble.

Fili groaned just thinking of it, the air he was holding in his lungs leaving him as bubbles.

Gimli had, at least, been kind enough to wait until Bilbo had gone to take his own bath before asking. Still, Fili didn’t know which Valar he’d upset to end up with Gimli as a cousin or what grievous offense he had committed but, if they would just give him a chance, he would have happily begged for forgiveness. The unfaltering acceptance, the knowledge that Gimli was ever at his back and ready to aid him, was nice but he wasn’t always sure it was worth the damnable teasing.

He pushed up from the water with a gasp then pulled air back in. He reached to push his hair back from his face and began to pick apart his braids. They were slippery and had gone fuzzy after getting wet and being allowed to air dry, already coming undone without the beads and fastenings. Another dunking and he began to clean up.

“I don’t like this place.” It was a testament to how used he was to Frerin popping in and out that he didn’t do more than flinch a little before resuming his task. His uncle was leaning against the sink, a queer thing to witness since the mirror behind him reflected nothing but the steamy bathroom and the top of Fili’s head. “Did you hear me?”

Fili shrugged then slipped beneath the water again, letting it rinse the suds from his hair and chest. He could have responded but he was, maybe, still stinging from the harsh way his uncle had spoken to him the night before. And, with that in mind, heaven forbid someone should overhear and peek in to find him speaking to the air. That, he thought irritably as his lungs began to burn from lack of air, would certainly not be in line with not letting anyone know about Frerin as his uncle had commanded.

When he came back to the surface it was to find himself on the end of a dark look. “Being a brat doesn’t suit you Fili.”

Debatable.

“You didn’t feel anything out of place when you got here?” Frerin asked, ignoring Fili’s sour expression. “I was with your mother-she misses you and your brother and doesn’t approve of this adventure by the way-so I wasn’t with you but you must have. It’s so…” His eyes, the same blue all but Kili shared, flickered to the side then back to Fili. “It’s disgusting, as if everything in this home was covered in a layer of filth. You shouldn’t be here.”

Fili sank down again, up to his chin, and asked sotto voce: “And what would you have me do uncle? Tell Thorin we should leave on the say so of his younger brother?”

“Maybe being a brat does suit.” Frerin deadpanned. Fili wondered about their similar features and if he ever managed to look so sarcastic and pitying all at once. “Is there something you’d like to discuss, _nephew_?”

Fili flicked at the water, glaring down at his toes for far too long. Did he want to discuss with Frerin that Kili was upset with him and that it was making him want to scream already? Not particularly. He’d done this himself, confessed about his sight all wrong then tried to pass it off as a joke. What he’d said was that his words were a joke but what Kili had heard was that Fili thought he, and all of this, was a joke. Fili had seen it on his face when he’d returned from his walk in the forest. The hurt had been written in the tight line of his mouth, the stiffness of his back when he turned to face away from Fili, and the the sudden distance between their sleeping bags.

It was in the air between them and the words they weren’t speaking to each other.

It wasn’t Frerin’s concern. Fili had to sort it out himself and, really, what was one more mistake in an ocean of them?

“I felt something. Ori, Nori, and the hobbit as well. What do you think it means?”

Frerin hummed thoughtfully then shrugged. “No fucking clue.” He smiled fleetingly at Fili’s disgusted noise then turned slightly, holding up a hand to indicate Fili should be silent. A moment later the door opened. Fili sat up fully, already knowing who it was. Even Gimli would have knocked but Kili? They were too familiar and his brother too thoughtless to ever consider that maybe Fili would want privacy.

Or, rather, that privacy would ever include him not coming and going as he pleased.

“The rain’s let up and uncle wants us to move the cars and bikes into the barn and bring in anything we may need before we eat.” Kili was talking before he’d even fully opened the door. Fili sat up fully, eyes darting up to his hair. It was pulled back into a tail, a single tidy plait creeping along the edge of where it was shaved down then swept up with the rest of the hair. Kili’s name clasps were worked into them. They were simple, done in Thorin’s usual barebones style that declared the wearer as his kin.

Fili felt he was supposed to be seeing more than that.

“Okay. I’m coming.” He said. He kicked the plug out then stood up to reach for the towel he’d set on a hook nearby. When he’d stepped out of the water and fixed it around his waist he turned to find his brother gone.

Was Kili truly so desperate to be away from him?

“I hope I wasn’t like this when I was alive.” Frerin muttered. Fili glared. “If you saw you as I see you...go with your brother, keep your eye on him and this place. I’m going to look around. I’ll find you if I have something for you to do.”

His uncle left, passing right through the wall, when Fili nodded his understanding.

He dressed quickly, allowing his hair to hang free, and found his brother waiting for him on the porch. As he’d said the rain had let up to become a misty drizzle instead of a downpour and they made it out to the carport and barn more or less dry. Which was exactly where Bilbo found them some time later, staring blankly at their vehicles.

“Fili, Kili, dinner is...what’s the matter?” Bilbo asked, coming to a halt in the space between them. They exchanged a look over his head, agreeing without words that their issues would be set aside for the moment.

“We’re supposed to be moving the cars-” Kili started.

“Only we’ve encountered a slight problem.”

“Very slight. Miniscule, really.” Kili added. “With the tires.”

“The tires?” Bilbo asked, squinted at them.

“Yes. They were fine, earlier.”

“And now they seem to be...slashed.”

Bilbo’s froze for a beat then moved over to the vehicles, walking from one to the other and on to the next, taking in their tires with a steadily more aghast expression. Fili could relate; it had been very obvious to both of them as soon as they were close enough that someone had damaged the tires and not just with some small punctures or something like that, that maybe could be blamed on harsh terrain, but rather had slit almost every tire completely open, leaving large gaping wounds behind.

“That’s not good.” Bilbo declared, coming back to their sides. “That is not good at all. Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?”

“Uh, well.” They exchanged another look, both wincing slightly because they knew that it was the only actual solution. “Yes. Yes we should. And we thought-”

“As our official Speaker.”

“Yes! That you might want to _speak_ to Thorin for us.”

Bilbo, for all that he projected the image of an even tempered and easy going hobbit (or at least easy going enough to tolerate a herd of dwarrow invading his home and taking him off on a quest), swore at them (Kili blinked in surprise) and began to back away immediately. “Oh no. No no no. I am supposed to be your Death Speaker, and am not that I will remind you, and your uncle is most certainly not dead! And is rather frightening and hates me, besides. No thank you, absolutely not, I will not do it.”

Fili pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. Bilbo was right and it was, honestly, underhanded of them to try and send him to do what they did not want to. “Okay. That’s fine. We’ll go. You...you stay here in case whoever did this comes back.”

If possible Bilbo went even more pale, now stark white under his curls. “ _What_!?”

For a brief moment Fili thought it was the hobbit’s outraged shout that pierced the air and reverberated around them, but Kili turning around to stare up at the house told him that no, that wasn’t possible.

Bilbo’s frantically flailing hands dropped to his side. “On second thought, I will stay here.”

“Bodies!” Frerin shouted as he melted out of nowhere. “There are bodies in the root cellar under the kitchen. The family, I think, but there are so many parts it’s hard to tell how many it may be or what matches up with with- what happened to the tires?”

Fili made a split second decision and began to run towards the house. “Stay here with Mister Baggins, Kili. Keep him safe.”

“What?” They both sounded offended but judging from the lack of footsteps following him they stayed where they were. He’d been hoping Kili would take being told to look after their hobbit seriously enough to not follow and could only pray that whatever was wrong was happening inside and not outside.

He burst through the inner doors and came skidding to a stop. “Oh.”

The entire hallway and the stairs were washed out and staticy while everything else retained it’s color and cheer, an echo of death fitting perfectly into the world like a puzzle piece. He saw motion, looked up and swallowed. A woman was running down the stairs, clad in a nightgown splattered with what he knew, even with everything in shades of gray, black, and silver, was blood. She stumbled, righted herself, flew down the stairs, screaming silently the entire way. She turned the corner, went down the hall, tripping and crashing into the walls as she went. Pictures fell, the small table with a vase on it that Fili was certain wasn’t there any longer fell over.

The vase shattered and flowers and glass spread over the floor. She raced over them and now there were dark footstep shaped smudges left with every step she took.

Fili followed, heart in his throat. She rounded the corner down the hallway his room was in and when he stepped into it he saw the entire company standing in a tight circle around something, or someone, he couldn’t see. They didn’t fit the silvery echo around them, seemed to be clipping right through it places.

It made his head throb.

The woman ran still, looked back towards Fili. The fear on her face deepened. twisted, turned into stark terror, and she fell again. She hit the wall, slid down through Bifur and Bombur as her arm darted out and grasped the doorknob of the room the Ri's were staying in. His heart was thudding in his chest; he wanted to scream for her to get up, to hide, to escape but the words turned to ash on his tongue and clogged his throat, robbing him of air.

A shadow passed through him and ice slammed into his chest, making his vision blur. The echo flickered, faded, jumped ahead, and when it was solid again the shadow was lifting the thrashing woman off the floor. It was huge, so huge that it hand to bend to avoid hitting the ceiling, and it’s form filled the entire hall. He could still see the others through it but they looked almost greasy and unfocused, like a heat mirage.

Fili’s stomach twisted. He tasted bile in the back of his throat and blood on his tongue. Had he bitten it?

The shadow grasped the woman’s head and its body rippled, flexed, pulled and-

Fili’s knees hit the floor as blood sprayed the walls. Spots danced in front of his eyes. The replay stopped, shivered, and then the woman and shadow were gone. Everything else remained as it was, colorless and waiting.

It was starting over.

“Fili!” Gimli’s voice came from above him, a dull echoed from far away, but hands touched his face, made him look up. “Your nose.”

He touched his face and wasn’t terribly surprised to pull his fingers away smeared with blood. He was a little surprised when Gimli was shoved away for Thorin to bend over him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth a harsh line in his face. The world was bleeding color and shape, black rushing in from the corners to overtake everything?

“Fili? Fili what happened? Where’s your brother?”

The black rose up and swallowed him down into icy nothingness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly the story really begins in earnest. I swear to you, this was not where this was supposed to go. But here we are now. A haunted house horror story. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Who screamed? Why? Bodies in the cellar, flat tires, and now locked doors that Frerin can't get through. Gimli is oddly unmoved by it all. Kili wants to get it on camera. Fili really really could use a drink.


	8. you are the song that’s written on my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili, Fili, and the things that hurt most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* More monsters. Some injury. Angst. 
> 
> "'Cause it feels like I’ve been here forever  
> Afraid to beat my father, and afraid to leave him too  
> But it’s my name I painted on the doorway  
> Tells me where I came from and what I gotta do  
> Wherever this goes (goes), no matter how far (far)  
> Baby, you are the song that’s written on my heart  
> Wherever we stand, wherever we fall  
> It don’t matter at all, 'cause I will be forever yours  
> From this moment till the day the curtains close  
> Wherever this goes  
> So we’re here now  
> Finally found our way out  
> On the road to some place  
> Some place that we don’t know  
> But it’s alright,  
> Keep on driving all night  
> Straight on through till morning  
> I don't know which way to go"
> 
> The Fray~Wherever This Goes

Notes: Some past Kili/Others here. Nothing graphic.

 

Kili liked to think that he was a decent enough hunter and tracker. Not as good at hunting as, say, Thorin but he didn’t have over a century of it under his belt just yet, but a better tracker than most. Sharp eyes, was what everyone told him he had and he supposed that was as good a way as summing up things as any. The truth was a few steps away from that and often involved hearing things on the wind he shouldn’t be able to hear or seeing things his eyes shouldn’t be able to. 

It wasn’t all weird abilities of course. He was skilled on his own, had learned from Thorin and Dwalin, and while the extra boost was appreciated when he needed it, there was pride in not needing it. It was his own eyes, his own knowledge, that lead him to kneel next to his car and poke a finger into the jagged tear in his tires to pull something that had caught on one of the jagged edges inside the tire loose. He grimaced at it then focused back on the tire. He felt along the edge, pushed the split sections as close to back together as he could, and frowned harder

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked, leaning over his shoulder. “What’s in your hand?”

“Skin.” 

The disgusted ‘ugh’ the hobbit let out told Kili all he needed to know without actually turning around to see Bilbo’s expression. He laughed in spite of himself and the situation as he shuffled down to the next tire. The damage was more or less the same, less the long slash mark he’s originally thought and more like something had dug in and yanked a long chunk free. 

Something with, he found when he brought what he’d found closer to the light hanging from the front of the barn, flakey, green tinted brown, kind of scaly skin. And hair, coarse black spikes...bristles, really. Something that could afford to lose, or shed, a chunk of skin as big as his palm and not bleed at all. At least he didn’t think it had. 

That thought in mind he set the skin aside on top of the hood of the car and crouched down again, fishing his phone out as he went. He turned the camera on, flipped it to record, and used the light it put out to illuminate the ground. It was dirt, made soft by all the rain, covered in a layer of gravel. 

“What has skin like that? Some kind of animal? ...who hates tires.” 

“I don’t know.”

Ori would have known what to call them and no doubt would have whipped up a list of potential creatures, the myths around them, and how likely they were to be in the area in the time it took Kili to come up with ‘bristles’. Kili had his strengths, and had built his own knowledge base, but he’d be lying if he said that Ori hadn’t come with a near encyclopedic knowledge of what may or may not be lurking in the world under their own and opened his eyes up to new things. And wasn’t that funny since Kili was the one with the ‘Sight’ and all the creature experience? 

He supposed if he thought about it most of his interest had been what in he saw and knew and not so much the entire big, wide world of Cryptids. Ori’s interest was in *everything* that might relate to the paranormal and supernatural. 

Ori had looked near orgasmic when Kili had filled him in on all the...odd encounters he’d had over the years. Not just the things he’d talked about to whoever would listen, centaurs in the woods and swamp women in the water, pixies who invited him to dance in their rings at night, but all the things that had come later. 

About Kili’s tendency to attract creatures and heartbreak.

There had been the kitsune who’d lived in the town of men closest to their home in the Blue Mountains, a baker’s son. Kili and Fili had been in the town on a supply run when Kili had seen what looked like a human one moment, tall with rust colored hair and amber eyes with sharp features, and more than human the next, with a long white tipped tail and triangular ears. He’d left Fili’s side to follow the man and, once he’d managed to convince him he wasn’t trying to expose or hurt him, they’d made fast friends. 

He’d tried to tell Fili about it that night, excited at the prospect of meeting a creature who didn’t live in the woods but hid among people, who looked like a man unless you saw him just right, who might understand him. But Fili hadn't wanted to hear it, had slammed a door in his face, and been gone by the end of the week. Kili had absorbed himself in learning about the kitsune and whatever other knowledge his friend would impart with. 

He had, somewhere along the way, ended up learning some things he hadn’t set out to and wound up in the kitsune’s bed. He’d imagined, at the time, that he’d fallen in love with sharp foxy features and ears that twitched when he touched them but then it had ended as many things between dwarrows and non-dwarrors ended. With an angry father who, creature or not, did not want his son to lie with a dwarf and had unceremoniously tossed Kili of their home, followed by his clothes, boots, and a promise that if he ever came back he’d be shown just what their kind was capable of. 

His pride had been wounded. He was well aware that dwarrows were, among the other races, not well liked or accepted except where they were needed, but something about finding that even things that didn’t belong in the world, as most knew it, rejected them as well had just been too much. He hadn’t even particularly cared about the ending of the relationship, which was less a relationship and more sneaking around when the moment allowed, in comparison. 

Next there had been the dwarrowdam from far south, with dark skin and thick hair and feathered wings in shades of blue, green, and red Kili had never seen before. Her family had liked him well enough and when winter came and they prepared to leave they’d asked him to come along. It was a better place for people like him, they’d told him, and there would be no whispers about what he was or what he could see. He’d considered it but something had kept him from accepting and so she’d left him; it had felt like being punched in the chest to watch her families car vanish around the corner and out of sight. 

They’d talked for a while after but distance worked its magic and slowly but surely the calls and emails faded into nothing at all. She’d told him, voice soft and musical through his headphones one night, that it was just how things worked for someone like Kili, who was between worlds. One foot on either side, not part of either (he wondered if she’d seen how pale he’d become, heard him gasp for breath because  _ No _ , that wasn’t what he wanted) and unable to hold onto both. He’d made his choice and choices held power.  

The memory of her had dulled around the edges, turned into smoke he couldn’t keep a grasp on. 

Then the satyr and that had been fun, wild, and regretful. Satyrs weren’t much for monogamy, as it turned out, even the ones who managed to hide in plain sight of men and dwarrows, and Kili had taken it...not as well as he could have. In the end his satyr, who hadn’t been his at all, had angrily told him he didn’t have a right to be mad when it wasn’t as if Kili had given him his heart. That he couldn’t give anyone his heart because it was broken beyond repair long before they’d met, had been spat at him right before he’d been, once again, forced out into the street.    
Though at least he’d been dressed and had his boots on. 

It was a silly thing, the claim that he couldn’t let anyone have his heart, but there had been a truth in it that had weighed heavily on him since. Broken beyond repair? Maybe. 

There hadn’t been anyone after that. He poured his attention into his work and his research, into plans, and found he was just as content in that as anything else. He was a dwarf after all, he could love his calling as well he could any person. More, even. 

“I think these are footsteps.” He said, turning his head to the side. “I didn’t notice because of how big they are but I think…” 

He took a few steps back, angling his phone to get a better view and yes, he could just see the impression that something very large had left in the wet earth. The gravel made it hard to see clearly and then there was the sheer size. He might have noticed the difference in elevations before but he wouldn’t have see it as more than the rise and fall of the ground if he hadn’t been looking so hard. 

“Unless there’s an oliphaunt wandering around here I don’t think anything could make marks like that.” Bilbo sniffed. Then was quiet save for the rustling of his clothes as he shuffled around behind Kili. “...there. There isn’t, is there? And how would something that big come and cut up-”

“Claw.” He corrected lightly. “I’m pretty sure it was claws.”

Bilbo made a weak noise of distress then sat down abruptly where grass met gravel and dropped his head into his hands. Kili dipped the toe of his boot into the top of the impression, noting what looked to be four distinct ‘toe’ shapes, each more than big enough for his whole foot to fit in. He would have thought deeper impressions would be left behind, something this big had to be heavy didn’t it? 

He moved to the next and the next; they led out into the farm’s fields yet the expanses of wheat, much taller than Kili was by the looks of things, were all uniform and unbroken. It looked like nothing had ever been out amongst the field, let alone something as big as what Kili was thinking. He held up his phone, recording it all with intent to show Ori. 

“I don’t like this at all.” There was a strange urgent note to Bilbo’s voice that made him turn back to the hobbit. Bilbo was still on the ground but now he was staring off towards the fields as well, blue-green eyes fever bright and lips parted around panted breaths that were misting in front of him. He was shivering and all the color had drained from his face. 

“Mister Baggins?” 

“Kili!” Gimli’s voice cut through the night; he was on the porch, leaning half out of the doors and waving a hand frantically. “Your brother-” 

Kili’s stomach dropped but when he looked back on it he wouldn’t be able to say if it was because of the dread Gimli’s words brought or because of the ear splitting roar that shook the ground under his feet and nearly sent him sprawling. For a second nothing moved, even Gimli had gone still. Then thunder, but nothing thunder at all but very big, heavy footsteps, and the ground shook again. There was a rustling and then a crash and a hole opened up in the field. It was far off, crushing wheat with its weight, but Kili could see it was barreling towards them, flattering all in its path. 

There was a distortion to the air, the dark of the night darker in the space above where the plants were bending and breaking, being torn from the ground

He pivoted towards the hobbit, grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him to his feet then pushed him in front of him and towards the house. Gimli shook himself, breaking free of his shock, and ducked back inside. The ground trembled violently and the sounds behind him got closer far faster than he liked. It sounded like the world was being torn apart, the earth splitting and grinding together, things being yanked free, the very air screaming when another roar split it. 

It was not a long distance between the carport and the main house. Kili was light on his feet and so, thankfully, was Bilbo; in fact the hobbit was faster, pulling away the instant he was steady on his feet. It couldn’t be more than 30 seconds at a full sprint and Kili didn’t stumble once. 

The next roar was right behind him, turned the air hot and wet and poisoned it with a fetid smell. There was a whooshing sound and something caught on the back of his shirt; the sound of it ripping as he all but threw himself up the steps onto the porch rang in his ears. The crunching of splintering wood followed him and something bit into his back, sharp and stinging. He hit the wood hard and with a flash of hot pain rushing over his shoulder and arm, but was up and scrambling past a returned Gimli without missing a beat. 

Gimli was pouring something on the ground and, once Kili was past him, hastily dumped the rest of the jar. Kili twisted around and, just before the door closed, he saw teeth and large glowing eyes, clawed hands outstretched. Then the door slammed shut and Gimli danced back from it, just in time because Kili could practically feel whatever it was colliding with the house, making the glass in the windows rattle. Gimli took a step back then pointed. 

“Inside, all the way.” 

Kili was happy to oblige and, once they were in the front hall and the door shut, watched Gimli scoop up another jar and begin spilling out a line of something granular and pink in front of them. Nori was in the room as well, face twisted in what looked like pain as he poured the same mixture onto window sills, and Dwalin was peering out of a window, mouth open in an O of shock. An outraged roar, louder and longer than all the rest accompanied a ‘whomp’ and more window rattling. A door groaned and creaked; the hair on Kili’s arms stood on end. The thing outside snarled and howled. A scratching sound sent a chill up Kili’s spine.

And then there was nothing. They stood, unmoving, staring at the door, holding their breaths. And not just them, in that moment it seemed the whole world was doing the same, gone perfectly still as it waited to see what would happen next. 

Finally Nori sighed, expression clearing. “It’s gone.” 

“It?!” Dwalin spluttered. “What the fuck was that?” 

“We need to get out of here! How do we get out of here?” The words burst forth from the hobbit in a panicked stream, the dam holding back his fear broken. Kili could relate; his knees shook and the urge to just fall over onto the ground was strong. He would have if not for one thing. 

“Where’s Fili? You said something happened.” 

“I think,” Gimli said almost conversationally. “I will stay inside if it’s all the same to you Bilbo but you are more than welcome to go outside with the beastie as long as you don’t break my lines. Mister Dwalin, could you grab that jar? We need to do the back door and windows as well.” 

Nori handed off his jar to a red faced Dwalin and motioned for Kili to follow him. Kili did, letting the conversation behind them become meaningless background noise along with the stinging pain just under the skin of his back and shoulder. 

Fili first. 

“Ori saw something. Took his gloves off, the idiot, and touched the door to our bedroom. Started screaming like something was tearing him apart.” Kili noticed for the first time that Nori looked pale and drawn; he was practically biting the words and grimacing as if they tasted four. “Said something about ‘they killed my babies’, tried to pull his hair out and fought us something awful. I think he broke Oin’s nose.” 

Kili couldn’t quite reconcile the image of quite Ori, chronically hunched over and hiding in his clothes, with the idea of him breaking someone’s nose. Or screaming; half the time Kili had to strain to even hear the younger dwarf speak he was so quiet. 

“And then Fili showed up. Just stood in the hallway, looking like he was going to puke, nose bleeding all over the place. Passed out in Thorin’s arms; he’s in your room now. Gimli was coming to get you and then...monsters in the dark.”

Kili’s heart squeezed in his chest, skipped a beat then started beating harder. He started walking faster, past Nori, almost running down the hallway. Nori sighed behind him, exasperated, but Kili didn’t bother asking why or slowing down. He needed to get to Fili, needed to make sure he was okay. If something had happened to his brother here, on this trip, he would…

He didn’t know what he’d do. He never knew when it came to Fili, not really. 

Kili burst into their shared bedroom, full of anxious dwarrows he couldn’t see because he only had eyes for his brother. 

Fili was on top of the blankets of one of the beds, face streaked with blood, skin chalky white and waxen. His eyes were shut tight but his lips were moving fast, forming words without sound, and his hands were clenched into fists. He jerked every so often, flinched as his face twisted up, and then stilled. Something black was crusted on the seam of his lips. 

Kili swayed on his feet, the frantic energy draining out of him like a plug had been pulled inside. He blinked slowly, swallowed, then made himself look up at their uncle. Thorin was sitting on the edge of the bed, a bloody rag in hand and bowl of pink tinted water balanced carefully on his knees, brows drawn together and mouth pinched. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black. 

“Do you know what this is Kili?” 

He shook his head. “No. Ori would know.” Ori knew everything! Ori could fix this! “Where’s Ori! Nori said-”

“Next room over.” Gloin jerked his head towards the bathroom door. “Lad’s not doing much better and Dori is working himself into a state. Where’s Gimli?” 

“Pouring something on the doors to keep the monster out, I think.” Kili mumbled. Gloin tilted his head to the side in silent question but Kili didn’t know the answer and didn’t care to speak of it anymore. He was at the bed, couldn’t recall having started walking, and his legs decided they didn’t want to hold him up anymore. He collapsed more than sat at Fili’s side, the floor hard under his knees. His hand found Fili’s and, for one hopeful moment he hoped that maybe-but no. His brother didn’t stir, kept mouthing words Kili couldn’t read on his lips. Something black and thick seeped from the corner of his mouth. 

Kili closed his eyes against the burning behind them. He’d known Erebor might be dangerous, Ori had stressed that they were stirring up century old spirits who’d died horribly and hadn’t even been properly honored or returned to the stone. He’d been ready for something bad to happen there, to him, and had just filed it away as a risk he was willing to take. 

But they’d barely even gotten on their way and- and he didn’t know what the fuck was happening. A monster outside (and Kili had seen many things but never anything that wanted to hurt him or seemed anything more than curious and amused by his ability to see them.) and something happening inside? 

Happening to Fili? 

This was not how things were supposed to go. Fili was just here so Kili could make his point and get his brother back on his side, nothing more and now-

“You’re hurt.” Thorin croaked. Kili opened his eyes and followed his uncle’s gaze to his shoulder and arm. Both were missing skin and oozing blood sluggishly. His back was probably torn up too; he could feel the pull and sting every time he breathed. 

“‘M fine. Can barely feel it.” 

He’d long since realized nothing could hurt like Fili turning his back on him, rejecting him. No one could hurt him like his brother did and the proof was in the tight squeezing pain in his chest as he watched Fili’s jerk and tremble on the bed. 

\---

Bombur's hands were shaking. He was usually steady, in crafting, building, and in cooking but after Ori and Fili had fallen into whatever fits they were having and the house had shaken and rattled like it was going to come down on them, he figured he was entitled to be a little off. That was why he could only sigh and rub at his eyes when he dropped the bowl of soup on the floor. Bifur grunted behind him before pushing him away from the mess, a rag in hand. Bofur chuckled tiredly from where he was slicing up bread. 

"Sit down Bombur. I think we can handle ladling up some soup." 

"Hah." Bombur snorted. "You'll manage to burn it or ruin it somehow. I'm shocked you haven't managed to slice off a finger and bleed all over the bread yet." 

Bofur smirked. "There's still a half loaf to go. Don't sell me short." 

Bifur made a questioning sound then moved across the floor on his knees towards the center of the kitchen. Bombur rubbed at his eyes again then, catching his cousin's eye, signed a question. Bifur could read lips well enough but signing was easier and less likely to be messed up by beards and lighting and talking too fast. Bifur pointed at a trail of the soup that had run its way to the center of the floor and was now dripping between two of the floor boards. Bombur narrowed his eyes and, following his cousin's finger as it dragged along the floor, found he could see the seam of a hatch. 

Bofur kicked back the throw rug and exposed more of the hatch, including a small hole that, Bombur decided when his brother stuck a finger in it, served as the way to open it. Bofur pulled it up and Bombur reared back immediately; a thick sickly smell rushed out of the underground chamber like a wave that had been waiting for an opening. 

Bombur wasn't unfamiliar with the smell of death or, even, rot.  He'd butchered more than his share of animals in his time and, even, had pulled a few unfortunate dwarrow out of mine collapses days after the fact, closed his eyes at the sight of crushed bodies and missing limbs before swallowing down his grief and doing what needed done. He did not have a weak stomach nor was he moved easily. 

The smell coming from below them, now freed, had him struggling not to retch as he scrambled away from it. Bofur did retch, though he made it to the kitchen sink before doing so. Bifur, always the more sensible of them, kicked the hatch shut with a resounding bang. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli knows lots of things, except what's most important and what exactly to do with what he knows. Also he knows that Fili and Kili are idiots.

Gimli loved his family. Parents, uncles both immediate and a bit more distant, handful of cousins, starting with Oin’s son Gori and ending with Fili and Kili, who were a few branches over in the family tree. (And Ori, who was more than a few branches over and, well, they weren't supposed to talk about how one of their ancestors had been fond of planting his seed where he had no business. Gimli suspected he and Ori were the only ones who knew about the connection, one through research and the other through stranger means.) All of them were important to him but it was Fili and Kili who he'd been closest to all his life. 

Even if they'd functionally ruined his.

Gori, though closer in relation, was a full forty years older than Gimli and his other cousins even older than that. Fili and Kili, at nineteen and fourteen years his senior, had been right in his age group and not just his closest friends (closer to each other then they were to him but perhaps if he'd had a brother or Gori had been closer to his age Gimli would be no different) but were like brothers and so meant more to him than all but his own parents did. 

He had come on this stupid doomed quest for no reason but to protect them as best he could.

That made stepping into the room to find Fili pale and still on the bed hurt like a physical wound stabbing deep into his heart. And made the argument he and a grumbling Mister Dwalin walked in on that much more grating. Bofur was standing off to the side, slowly twisting his hat around in his hands as he watched the proceedings, Bilbo was huddled near the door, clutching something to his chest, and Kili was at Fili’s side, staring ahead blankly; Gimli edged towards his side immediately, placing a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. Kili jumped, blinked, then smiled shakily. Gloin and Balin were standing between Thorin and Nori, trying to talk them down as their voices climbed higher and higher. 

Thorin’s expression was thunderous and promised nothing but pain; Gimli had to give credit where it was due, even Fili and Kili would have been cowed by their uncle in that moment but Nori was anything but. His hair was in disarray, elaborate braids and peaks half undone to allow his bright red hair to fall down his back in mussed waves, his back was straight with tension, and his expression was as dark as Gimli had ever seen anyone look.  

“If you have an idea-" Balin, ever the reasonable peacemaker started. His eyes, and hands, were on Thorin but Gimli could tell his statement was directed at Nori. Who, crowded back into a corner by Gloin, looked a bit like a pissed off cat, puffing up and bristling in his rage.

“You want to know what I think,  _ now _ ?” Nori sneered, trying to lean around Gloin to jab a finger at Thorin. “Are you sure you don’t want to dismiss what I have to say until someone’s  _ dead _ ?” 

“My nephew-”

“Fuck your nephew!” 

Kili winced, eyes dropping to Fili. Thorin growled, an angry flush spreading over his face, and managed to take a threatening step forward in spite of Balin trying to push him back. 

“Ah,” Gimli muttered under his breath. “Good to see we’re all getting along and solving the monster problem like adults. Their mothers would be proud, no doubt about that. Who needs monsters when we can just kill each other? Brilliant, that is.” 

If looks could kill Gimli would have dropped dead twice over under the withering glares of Thorin and Nori. Lucky for him they were back to shouting at each other in short order. 

“You will tell us what you know!”

“I  _ know  _ if Ori was the only one hurt you wouldn’t think to ask me anything but it’s your kin and suddenly I’m your expert? You’re just the same as you’ve always been Thorin; I told my brothers that we should just leave you and yours to your pointless deaths-” 

“Nori, lad, that isn’t-” Gloin said, using the tone he used for when he thought Gimli was being unreasonable and needed to calm down, or as Kili liked to call it ‘The Gimli is being a stupid child’ voice. Even not directed at him it sparked annoyance in him and, it seemed, did the same for Nori. The redhead’s attention snapped to Gloin with a snarl. 

“I told you all this place wasn’t right! Ori could feel it, so could the hobbit! Even your boy could tell, not that any of you bothered to pay attention!” Nori bit out.  

Gimli blinked then took a few steps back back, not liking the turn this conversation was taking. He hadn’t thought anyone had noticed how wary he was to enter the house though, contrary to what Nori thought, it wasn’t because of anything he felt. It was because of what he already knew about the place. In his haste to get away before attention turned to him he collide with the solid, unmovable, form of Mister Dwalin. A large hand clapped down on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place.

“Aye,” Dwalin said. “Your boy’s some kind of witch Gloin, kept whatever is raging around outside out with a jar of dust.” 

All the eyes in the room turned towards Gimli; Thorin with a furrowed brow, Gloin a tight frown, and Kili bewildered, as if it was the first time he was seeing Gimli. Nori, at least, seemed to realize he’d said something he shouldn’t have and winced before visibly deflating, all the anger leaving his face as he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. 

“Gimli?” Gloin asked, a wary edge to his voice.  

Much of Gimli’s life had been spent in the shadow of his older cousins. Kili and Fili had both demanded attention in their own way and Gimli had been, in comparison, all too normal. Boring, really. He'd chased at their heels, played their games, followed Fili, the oldest and thus unspoken leader of their little group, and went on Kili’s adventures in the woods without thought. Looking up to them, his smart, funny, mischievous and bold older cousins, had come naturally. To him they’d been able to do no wrong, no matter how the rest of the world saw them. 

But, at the same time, he'd never wanted to be seen the way Kili and Fili were.

Fili hadn't been so strange himself when they were younger but his protection of Kili, and unshakeable belief in what his brother could see and do, had made him as much an outsider as if he'd been the one who saw things that shouldn't exist. 

Kili had his oddities and Gimli, on the outside and able to see all too well the trouble that came with it, was grateful to not be part of that. While his line of the family was known to be a little strange, Uncle Oin supposedly had a bit of foresight and some skill with casting runes, his father had always been very clear about not believing in that sort of thing. Gloin tolerated Oin and his very rare trances because he was his brother and was kind to Kili because he was a child and family, but there had always been a trace of pity and disquiet under it all. Gimli had never wanted that to be directed at him or to see that severe frown around the edges of his father's mouth be caused by him.

He didn’t want to be tolerated. 

It wasn’t like he’d asked for what was happening to him. It was all Fili’s fault, really. There was something very wrong with their family line, that much was indisputable, but Gimli had been immune to it right until his idiot cousin had decided running away was a reasonable alternative to just telling his equally idiotic brother he was in love with him. And now Gimli was suffering for it, ever a bit part in his cousins’ story. 

“I am not a fucking witch. Magic is elf shit-” Mostly. There were some dwarf shamans, ages ago, but that was a wholly separate manner. ...mostly separate. “And I’m no elf.” He grumbled, glaring over his shoulder at Dwalin, who looked utterly unrepentant. “It was brick dust, rock salt, and some herbs. Anyone could draw those lines.” 

Dwalin, old cranky traitorous bastard that he was, rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we all travel around with jars of that stuff, waiting to keep out monsters.” 

...that was a fair point, unfortunately. To say nothing of what they’d think if they could see what else he was toting around in his bags. He could just see it now, Mahal help him, ‘Gimli, what are these crystals for?’ ‘Gimli, why are you carrying enough lighter fluid to burn down a small village?’ ‘Gimli, is there anything you’d like to tell us about this dream journal full of sketches of some half naked (and occasionally naked, anatomically correct) elf?’ ‘Gimli, we’re calling your mother and sending you straight to therapy.’ ‘Gimli, electroshock therapy isn’t that bad, stop making such a fuss’. 

No, he’d very much like to avoid all of that if he could. He had enough of a complex without involving others.  

“The jars are Ori’s. And he does just travel with them, because he’s not a fool who rushes blindly into things.” Nori supplied, lying so smoothly that Gimli did a double take before nodding his agreement.

“He told me about it, in the car. It’s for warding out dark presences, so when I saw that thing chasing Kili I went for the jars.”

Nevermind that there was no way he could have run down to Ori’s room and back to the front door in enough time and had, actually, stashed the jars by the door earlier in the day. No one but Nori had seen him go for them, Dwalin having come running for...actually Gimli didn’t know what had brought him to the front of the house. 

That was something to ponder over later. 

Kili’s eyes narrowed and Gimli could tell he knew the lie for what it was (Ori had babbled about a lot of things but warding lines weren’t one of them) but he said nothing in favor of reaching for his brother’s hand. In some other circumstances Gimli would have rolled his eyes; the both of them of them were infuriatingly pathetic and somehow knew each other completely, except when it came to each other. But there was a time and place for mockery and this probably wasn’t it. 

It wasn’t fun if Fili wasn’t there to blush and look like he wanted to die and/or kill him.

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose then, shoulders dropping, stepped back from Balin. “There’s something outside? That will go nicely with the bodies in the basement.” 

Gimli realized, when Dwalin made a squawking sound behind him, that he should probably at least feign surprise. Unfortunately he’d never been a very good liar, Fili had called him tragically noble and honest more than once, and he hadn’t been surprised by much in over a decade. It was hard to be surprised when you already knew what was going to happen before it actually happened. 

Though, he amended as he looked back at Fili, he didn’t know as much as he’d like to half as often as he needed to. 

Other than a thoughtful look from his father no one seemed to notice that he was decidedly not shocked. Dwalin’s demand for clarification and Bofur’s halting explanation of what he and his cousins had found under the kitchen successfully got everyone on more or less the same path. 

“It’s the family then?” Dwalin asked, mouth turning down at the corners. 

Bofur shrugged. “We didn’t exactly go and take a close look, just peeked down with a flashlight, but there’s something down there and it’s...not good. You remember that mine collapse forty years back?”

A collective shudder seemed to shared by the older dwarves. Even Nori who couldn’t have been too far into his seventies forty years back paled. Gimli didn’t remember that collapse but it must have been something to get a reaction like that; whatever point Bofur was aiming for seemed to have gotten across if the stiff nods from the older dwarves were anything to go by. 

Dwalin’s frown deepened. “They were a good family. Deserved better than being shoved into their cellar to rot, at the very least.” 

“Do you think,” Bilbo’s voice was soft and trembling, barely above a whisper, but Gimli found himself jumping in shock. He’d forgotten the hobbit was there and, now that he took in Bilbo’s ashen face and round eyes, he regretted it. He needed to keep a better eye on that one. He didn’t know why, beyond an increasing sense of urgency when he looked at him, but as with most things he knew it would come to him in time. “That thing outside got to them? That is...they didn’t have Gimli, or Ori’s, powder to keep that thing out did they?”

The older dwarves exchanged pinched looks.

“This is not good lads.” Balin said, tugging on his beard. “A family of menfolk, dead in their basement, stumbled over by a group of ‘invading’ dwarrows? This is not going to look favorable to anyone, and won’t do much to keep this quest secret, if we contact the authorities.” 

Nori shifted on his feet, arms crossing his chest. “We need to go down there.” 

Bofur took on a distinctly green tint to his skin. Thorin, if possible, looked even more tired as he fixed his eyes on Nori. “And why would we want to do that? Adding our fingerprints and the like to a cellar full of dead bodies doesn’t seem wise.” 

“Because it might tell us what’s wrong with Ori and Fili.” Bilbo said, cutting off what looked like a far angrier comment from Nori. The redhead huffed even as he nodded. 

“Yes, that.” 

Bilbo moved deeper into the room, away from the corner he’d taken up residence in, and held up a thin leather bound book. “I brought my mother’s journals, from her travels-funny thing, you all left that contract on her glory box, where she kept all of her books and things, I wouldn’t have thought to look in there otherwise- and I’ve been reading when I have the chance? And, um, I’m not certain of course, I’m no expert and she didn’t really write these things that clearly, lots of shorthand and code and doodles, I doubt she ever meant for me to pick it up and try to learn anything from it but I thought-” 

“Mister Baggins, please.” Thorin cut in sharply. “The point?” 

“Possessed! I think Fili is. I would need to look at Ori, and again I’m not sure? But, well, one of the first cases my mother handled was a possession, of a child in Bree. Very handy, really, that it'd be so close to the start of the journals considering the situation and that I decided to bring them along, almost like- err, anyway. She, my mother that is, said the child just fell into a swoon and couldn’t be awoke for a time, but black ichor flowed from her eyes, mouth, and ears until...uh.” Here Bilbo hesitated, blinking rapidly, then cleared his throat. “Until she awoke, not as herself but as a spirit that had...shoved the girl’s soul out? Or, eaten it, is what my mother actually wrote but I’m not sure how literal that is!” 

The last part was added hastily when Kili let out a strangled noise of protest and half rose from where he was sitting. 

“The spirit was of someone who had died rather horribly in the home some years before this family moved in and I think we can all agree that being killed by some monster is very horrible indeed. I think that there may be spirits who latched onto Fili and Ori. My mother wrote that those who are psychic or have connections to death, but lack training are susceptible. It’s as if there are doorways, at least she drew a door here and some little floating things I think are meant to be ghosts around it, you see-” He held up the book to show that there was indeed a picture of a round green door and little squiggles with eyes all around it. 

Bilbo’s mother had been a very strange hobbit. 

Thorin’s eyes darted down to Fili, something dark and unreadable, then back to the hobbit. “What happened to the child?” Bilbo opened his mouth then shut it, eyes cast downward. 

“My mother banished the spirit but it was...the child was put to rest. She wasn’t there anymore, you understand, because the spirit had...eaten. Her. But that might not be literal! ...the putting her to rest is literal, though. Very literal.” 

Gimli frowned, tuning out the rest of the hobbit’s muttered words and making himself not react to the way Kili shrank in on himself, breathing hard and shaking visibly. This was...not right. This wasn’t what he’d seen, not at all. Oh, yes, Fili was very much going to die on this trip, the great idiot, but not here. Not like this. Gimli was supposed to have more time to avert it and this...this was no time at all. It had only been a few days! 

Damn Fili, why did he have to make everything so hard for him? Couldn’t even die on schedule and Gimli had been fooling himself to think this would be as simple as tagging along and keeping Fili away from any particularly dangerous looking cliffs. 

“That’s settled then.” Nori said grimly. “Mister Baggins, Dwalin, Gimli, and I will look into the cellar. Things should be fine up here, with the thing outside, so long as no one disrupts the lines.”

“What?” Came from not just Gimli but Bilbo and Gloin as well in the same breath as Thorin’s “I should go as well.” Bilbo’s denial went on, complete with stammering and an insistence that Nori was more than welcome to take the journal and read up on what looked like a perfectly viable banishing ritual and that there was no need for Bilbo to go as well, thank you very much. It was almost enough to block out Nori’s very firm “Fuck no, you’ll just touch something or get lost down there,” to a vaguely scandalized looking Thorin.  

If not for Kili’s quiet “Uncle, please.” Thorin probably would responded with more a sour look and a nod towards Dwalin. “Dwalin then.” 

Gloin and Gimli exchanged looks and Gimli knew without words that his father was protesting out of fear for him. Not for the first time he wanted to take his father aside and tell him of everything he’d seen, to tell him that there would be more danger than this ahead of him, that he would see terrible things and come out the other side scarred and changed but alive, that he needn’t worry just yet. 

But that would mean explaining so much and, as always, it wasn’t the time. Not that he knew when the time would be, he’d never managed to see any of that in his dreams, but there were more important matters. 

He met Nori’s gaze and nodded. “Okay.” 

“Take Bofur and Bifur.” Kili said; his eyes were still on Fili but there was a determined set to his jaw and in the thin, bloodless line of his lips. Bofur groaned. “Record everything.” 

“Really?” The look Dwalin laid on Kili couldn only be called shitty. “Is this time to be worried about your little show?”

Kili glared up at the older dwarf. “It’s for Ori. He’ll want to see everything when he wakes up.” 

“It’s true.” Nori smiled fleetingly. “He’ll be in a mood when he finds out he missed all the fun, just wait, and insufferable if we don’t have something to show him.” 

“I’m very concerned about how your brother defines fun.” Bilbo said peevishly. 

Nori shrugged then, with an air of casualness, headed for the door, pausing only to scoop up Gimli’s bag as if it belonged to him (better that way Gimli told himself, trying to fight back a touch of panic, because if Gimli took it he would have to explain why he needed his duffle bag to go look at dead bodies) and then to wrap an arm around Bilbo and guide him out. Bofur followed at their heels, hat once again in his hands and being tugged this way and that. Dwalin went next, but only after shooting Thorin an unimpressed look. 

He avoided his father’s gaze, settling for exchanging a look with Kili and hoping it looked reassuring. His cousin grasped his hand briefly, blankness in his eyes receding to show a fear so frantic and dark that it made his heart stutter in his chest and his stomach clench painfully. Gimli swallowed, nodded, and then followed the others out. Nori was waiting a ways down the hall and, much to Gimli’s dismay, rummaging through his bag. Dwalin was even further down the hall, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“You know,” Nori said almost conversationally. “You’re a decent artist. Very detailed sketches, almost as good as Ori’s. Do you have someone modeling for you?” 

Gimli snatched his bag back, glowering darkly. “I promise you no one will notice one extra body among the dozen down there.” 

Nori’s laughter stopped short. “Dozen? Did you say dozen? How do you know that?” 

\---

Dozen might have been an exaggeration. It was hard to tell when everything seemed to be in parts. They’d scarcely descended into the cellar when Bilbo reared back in horror, flashlight illuminating what looked like a metal headboard resting against the bottom of the ladder. Two hands, thin and feminine, mounted on the ends and a head with a mass of knotted black hair obscuring the face on the center spoke. Blood, long dried, was stuck to the metal in thin rivulets and had formed dark stains on the concrete beneath it. Gimli's swallowed back a surge of sourness that tried to rise up the back of his throat and looked away. 

Dwalin’s hand flashed out to grab the back of Bilbo’s coat and keep him from scrambling back up the steps. 

Nori cleared his throat. “Right. You got those cameras on?” 

The cameras were not the fancy equipment out in the cars but a cellphone and digital camera, one held by Bofur and the other by Bifur. They both looked like they’d rather be literally anywhere else but nodded nonetheless. Nori nodded back then, casting the beam of his flashlight around, sighed. The entrance to the cellar came down right in the middle of the huge, dark space and on all sides there were shelves that went from floor to ceiling and were jampacked with stuff. Gimli saw some of it was food, cans and jars that caught the light to show off their artfully preserved contents. Some of the jars were smashed open where they stood, chunks of glass and their contents spilling out over the shelving and already starting to turn. Others shelves held books, boxes, bulging bags, and all manner of other odds and ends.

Past the ones closest to them were more, tall and dark sentries in the gloom of the cellar, standing together to form maze like corridors, openings in the shelving units placed randomly to allow access to other rows. 

Gimli turned in a slow circle and tried not to think about what might be making the floor sticky beneath his feet or the sickly sweet scent of rotting food combined with something heavy and...meaty, that made his stomach want to turn. He had seen all of this before, dreamed it and then sketched it out from memory. He’d thought that, knowing what was coming, it wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Salt those.” Nori said, voice hushed. Gimli reached in his bag for another one of the earthenware jars full of dust and salt as he stepped closer to the bed frame. He meant to just drop the powder without really looking but, as he leaned closer to the head caught a glimpse of a watery, foggery over blue eye beneath the tangle of hair and bloated tongue lolling past bloodless lips. His breath caught in his throat. 

This was bad. 

Fili owed him for this. Owed him big. 

“This way first.” Nori’s voice broke him out of his daze. He hastily threw the powder, wincing at little as an electric tingle rushed over his skin, before hustling after Nori, Dwalin, and a shivering Bilbo. "Haunted farmhouse exploration, take one." 

“What are we looking for down here?” Bofur asked, moving his phone around to get everything recorded.

Nori’s shoulders lifted slightly. “Not sure but I think we’ll know when we see it.” 

Gimli knew that at the center of this maze like cellar they would find a pit dug right through the concrete to the soft earth below, full of the remains of a fire and and bones, hundreds of bones, gnawed clean and then thrown away. He resolved to keep that bit of information to himself; they would get there soon enough and him saying something was unlikely to do anything one way or the other except cause upset. 

In hindsight that might not have been the most solid plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. :D I was a little stuck trying to decide how to handle the basement thing; originally I wanted to send Kili but I couldn't think of any reasonable justification that would take him from Fili's side, which left Nori and Gimli. Nori is in a whole angry snit right now? And I wanted to keep Gimli's secrets (not that anything is explained well here, lol, but it'll be more detailed eventually) a while longer but in the end Gimli it is, since I think his PoV lends better to Fili(and Kili) centric story than Nori would. As he says, he's just playing a small part in his cousins' story.


End file.
